Game Of Survival: Coronation Street
by bananabreakdowns
Summary: This is a wild game of survival...
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N DISCLAIMER:**_

_**This is a Hunger Games AU. None of the events of Coronation Street have happened. No relationships between characters exist unless stated in the fic. All competing characters are in their teens, and age differences between characters may not necessarily be accurate. Both current and previous characters will be included. It may be worth looking up the plot of the Hunger Games if you are unfamiliar with the setting. This fic will have a different storyline but will be set in the same universe, so looking into it won't spoil the ending. I hope you enjoy. It's going to be a bumpy ride...**_

Carla woke with a start. The early morning rays shone through the grime covered window, casting patches of light across the wooden floor. There was an eery silence through the house. The sound of birds singing unknowingly from outside wafted into the room. If she didn't already know better, she'd think that this was the start of a perfect day.

She glanced across the room to where her brother was still asleep: brow furrowed and a firm frown set upon his face. It was clear he'd had about as good a nights sleep as she had.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Carla climbed out of bed. She ran her fingers gently across the cotton fabric of the dress hanging over the wardrobe, ready to be worn later in the day, before making her way out of the room.

She slipped on a pair of boots that were sat by the front door, before pulling it open and quietly closing it behind her.

The district was quiet at this time of the morning. Shutters were locked and doors bolted tight. Carla kicked up dust as she walked, dragging her feet along the track. She often snuck out of the house before her family awoke, needing to get out and clear her head. Today was no different. In fact, today it felt more necessary than ever.

It was the day of the annual Reaping: a ceremony that selected one boy and one girl to represent their district as tributes in the Hunger Games; an annual fight to the death. It was a sick tradition organised by the Capitol in order to remind the twelve districts of the revolution that the Capitol had managed to crush.

Carla traipsed through the meadow, finally stopping to perch on the hillside, trying desperately not to think about the possible outcomes of the day ahead. From her position, she could see out across most of District 12. Row after row of rundown shacks

lay before her, each one falling into its own state of disrepair; walls, roofs and windows blackened by soot from the mines. It was a dump, but it was home.

Carla lay back, her head resting in the grass among the wild flowers. A light breeze tickled the bare skin of her arms while the sun cast dancing patterns across her closed eyelids. She wished she could stay here forever.

There would be hundreds of names in the pot. Hers was only in seven times. She kept this fact running through her head, desperate to remain positive. For her to be chosen would be wildly against the odds. Although, Carla had come to realise that the odds were almost never in her favour.

She lay still in the field for over an hour, praying that come tomorrow she would be able to do the same again. It was only when the bustle of the townspeople began to heighten that she sat up. She watched as, in the distance, the men of the district made their way towards the entrance of the mine. It was just like any normal morning.

The only exception was that, come lunchtime, they would all be leaving again; congregating in the town square as was compulsory. They would be forced to watch on as two of their own children received a death sentence.

It was times like these that Carla felt grateful her father wasn't around. It was hard enough trying to cope with one useless parent, who tried desperately to make up for years of neglect on the single morning before the Reaping. It was as if when she awoke on that yearly date she suddenly remembered she had children to lose. Carla often thought she and Rob would be better off without her.

With a sigh, Carla pushed herself up from the ground, pulling several blades of grass from her hair. She stood for a moment, taking in the view of her home. For all she knew, it could be the last time she ever got to see it. She shook her head, dispelling the thought from her mind. She had to stay positive.

She trudged back into the house, and found Rob sat at the dinner table, head in hands, already dressed in his best shirt.

"Morning..." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the doorway. "Bad night?"

"What do you think?" He replied, shortly, not bothering to lift his head. Tensions were always high on mornings like this, but the tone of his voice still stung. She crept over to him, gently draping a slender arm over his shoulders.

"It's going to be fine. They're not going to pick you." She stated, firmly. With his name in the draw only five times, he was even less likely to be chosen than she was.

"You don't know that..." He whispered. Finally, he lifted his head from his hands. Dark circles encased his eyes; the result of a week of sleepless nights. She didn't know how to respond. He was right. There was no way to predict the results. All they could do was wait and hope.

"I need to get ready..." She mumbled, leaving Rob at the table and entering the bedroom they shared. It wasn't a large room: there was just enough room for their two single beds, a stand-alone wardrobe and a basin, which stood under a cracked mirror.

Carla filled the basin, taking a flannel and rubbing harshly at her skin. It was constantly coated by a thin layer of soot and dust: one of the downfalls of living in District 12.

Once she felt relatively clean, she pulled on the dress her mother had laid out while she slept the previous night. It was the same dress she'd worn for the past two years. The hem, that had originally fallen to her knees, now rested mid thigh; the cream fabric contrasting with the darkness of her hair.

She pulled a brush through the latter, yanking at the knots that had formed due to her tossing and turning through the night, and only worsened during her earlier trip to the meadow. She turned to the mirror and stared at the reflection gazing back at her.

She hated what she saw. She hated the dress: it's childish shape, light colour, and the fact that it had been picked out by her mother: completely different to anything she would have chosen for herself. She hated how gaunt she'd become: a result of slipping Rob extra portions of her meals. Most of all, she hated that this was her life. Getting dressed up; ready to be led like lambs to the slaughter into the town square where she'd wait to hear if it was her turn to be sacrificed in the name of sport.

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Her mother's head appeared around the frame, taking in the sight of her only daughter.

"I wondered when you'd make an appearance..." Carla shot, coldly, crossing her arms against her chest. For an instance, a pained look crossed her mother's face, as though she felt guilty. Almost as soon as it arrived, it vanished, leaving Carla with no doubt that, like she had always believed, her mother was nothing but a cold-hearted, manipulative cow.

"Less of the lip, young lady." She warned. Carla rolled her eyes, in a way relieved that she wouldn't have to put up with her mother's usual sickly sweet Reaping day routine. She watched as the woman pushed her way fully into the room, looking her up and down. "You're looking thin." She stated, as if this was something she'd never noticed until now.

"I wonder why..." Carla mumbled, under her breath.

Carla had taken it upon herself to be head of the family. While her mother stayed at home, claiming one ailment or another, Carla went out to work. She was one of the lucky ones: not many people of her age in District 12 had been able to find employment. She had taken to spending her wages immediately on food, in an attempt to stop her mother stealing the money to feed her alcoholism. However, any left over money was brought home and stashed into Carla's savings pot: ready for an emergency. Although, it never lasted very long. It was now a weekly occurrence for Carla to arrive home to find her mother nursing a cheap bottle of Vodka with the pot lying empty on the table. Once the cupboards began to look bare, and the overflow money spent on booze, Carla had no choice but to sacrifice her own meals for her little brother. It was only a matter of months until he would be required to leave school and work down in the mines. Carla figured he needed all the strength he could get. _Once he starts working, things will be different, _she'd tell herself, as she scraped her food onto his plate, before anyone had the chance to notice.

"Come here." Her mother cooed. Carla stiffened as she was pulled into a tight hug, which she didn't return. She wrinkled her nose as the stench of stale alcohol on her mother's breath hit her face. She felt anger begin to boil in the pit of her stomach. It was the one day her children needed her sober, and yet she couldn't even give them that.

A distant siren growing louder made her mother pull away. A familiar wave of nervous nausea washed over Carla; the colour instantly draining from her face. It was time.

As she passed Rob in the kitchen, she took hold of his hand. His palms were clammy, much like her own. She gave a reassuring squeeze, leading him and their mother out of the house.

They walked down their narrow street, Carla's eyes fixed firmly ahead. She didn't want to look around as though it were the final time, because, in her eyes, that would be admitting defeat.

She was 18 years old, which made this her last Reaping. She just had to get through today. She'd survived six in the past, why would this time be any different?

As they reached the town square, Carla pulled Rob into a tight hug.

"Good luck." She whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. He nodded, lips tightly pressed together into a thin line. He squeezed her hand one final time, before heading off towards the boys registration gate. Carla turned to her mother, who was gazing distractedly in the direction her son was now walking.

"He'll be fine." She stated, more for her benefit than her mother's. "See you, then..." She murmured, when her mother didn't respond.

There was no doubt that Rob had always been her favourite. Her little prince, she used to call him. Carla had grown accustomed to the feeling of emptiness that usually overcame her during fleeting moments spent with her mother. However, today she felt a heaviness in her heart at her mother's blatant disregard for her. Slowly, she backed away, her movements unnoticed by the woman that was supposed to care for her more than anyone else. As she entered the town square, packed with hundreds of people, she had never felt more alone.

Her eyes fell upon the stage that had been temporarily erected in front of the town hall. There were two large glass dishes, each one containing several hundred slips of paper, 12 of which had written on them either Carla or Rob's names. Behind them were a row of chairs. Only one was currently occupied.

Carla recognised the man as Roy Cropper: District 12's only victor. From what she'd heard, he was an incredibly intelligent man; winning the games purely by outsmarting his opponents. He had managed to survive the whole tournament without killing another person. Carla found that especially admirable. It was now his job to mentor all future tributes, advising them on the best strategies to use and ensuring they received sponsors from viewers. Carla couldn't imagine what an awful job it must be; having to watch the children in your care be slaughtered year in year out. It was a wonder he still had his sanity.

Carla's attention was diverted to where the heavy, wooden door of the town hall was being pushed open. As expected, the short, blonde lady came tottering down the stage in her heels. Carla smirked, remembering that, as soon as this was over, herself and Rob would be back in their bedroom taking it in turns to mimic the strange woman, rolling around with laughter as they did so.

Several thuds echoed around the square as she tapped on the microphone; presumably to check everything was in working order. She cleared her throat, and began to speak.

"Good afternoon everybody, and welcome to the 68th Annual Hunger Games Reaping!" She chimed, her voice sickly sweet. It was as if she was blissfully unaware that her actions would soon send two innocent people straight to their deaths. "For those of you who do not know me, my name is Sally Webster. It's a pleasure to be here in District 12 once again," She turned towards the mayor, who had taken his seat next to Roy, and offered a smile. The mayor remained stone faced. "And all that's left is for me to wish you all a Happy Hunger Games! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" She began to clap, as if attempting to prompt the crowd into following her lead. Silence billowed through the square. She clasped her hands awkwardly in front of her before speaking again. "On with the reaping! We're going to change things up this year, and start with the boys!" She looked as though she was about to burst with excitement.

Sally pulled up the sleeve of her blazer, extending her arm over the dish of boys names, wafting her manicured hand around as if casting a spell. She dipped it in, and delicately pulled out a sheet of paper.

Standing before the microphone, she cleared her throat once again. As she unfolded the piece of paper, Carla felt her heart rate speed up.

"And District 12's male tribute is..." She practically sang, dragging out the moment for all it was worth.

"Robert Donavon!"

Carla's breath caught in her throat. Her heart shattered and her knees felt as though they would give way any second. She let her eyes drift close, not wanting to see the terrified look she knew would be plastered across his face. She prayed that someone, anyone, would volunteer to take his place. Silence echoed through the square, broken only by Rob's footsteps, as he made his way slowly towards the makeshift stage.

"No! God, please no!" She could hear her mother screaming from the crowd. Selfishly, she thought that this might serve her right; make her consider how little she was there for her children when they needed it most. Now she wouldn't have the chance to make it up to one of them.

The feeling of anger towards her mother quickly dissipated to an overwhelming feeling of fear and anguish. There was no way Rob could survive the Hunger Games. Not alone, anyway.

Carla watched on as Sally's hand hovered over the pool of girls names, refusing to meet Rob's eye. She didn't hear the name that was called. She was too busy pushing her way through the crowd of terrified teenage girls around her. As she reached the centre aisle, all eyes fell on her.

For the first time, she looked up at Rob, watching his eyes widen as he realised what she was about to do.

"I volunteer." She called out, trying to keep her voice calm and composed. "I volunteer as tribute."


	2. Chapter 2

Sally beckoned Carla excitedly to the stage, clearly elated that District 12 may finally get some screen time this year. This was exactly the sort of interesting content she'd been craving for years.

Carla climbed the stairs slowly. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the square trained firmly on her. As she reached the stage, Sally put an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the microphone.

"And what's your name, sweetheart?" She asked, chirpily, eyes glistening with anticipation. Carla cringed at the term.

"Carla." She murmured. Sally let out a small laugh.

"Carla?" She raised her eyebrows, prompting her to continue. Carla sighed.

"Carla Donavon..."

Sally let out a dramatic gasp, clearly putting two and two together.

"So you're related?" She pushed, clearly wanting to take the drama to the next level. Carla nodded.

"He's my brother." She stated, quietly. She felt Rob's hand slip into her own, and was grateful for the comforting gesture.

"Well, would you look at that!" Sally exclaimed, addressing the crowd once again. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: your tributes!"

Carla felt herself being ushered into the town hall. She thought she'd feel frightened, or perhaps a wave of sudden adrenaline. But all she felt was numb. She was guided into a room just off of the main corridor.

It was quite decorative for a building in District 12. The walls were painted in a shade of deep red, and there was a plush rug laying in the middle of the floor. A single sofa sat across one wall.

The door closed behind her, leaving her alone in the room with Rob. They didn't speak: just pulled each other into a tight hug. She allowed her head to rest on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. It was the way they'd always comforted each other growing up, and now it felt as though they needed it more than ever.

Rob sighed as he pulled away from her. He opened his mouth to speak, the words clearly catching in his throat, as he closed it again, choosing to settle instead for a shake of the head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do." Carla whispered. Her act first, think later nature had often gotten her into trouble, but none more so than this. Although, strangely, she didn't regret it.

"Well, at least it'll make good television." Rob smirked, sadly. "We might actually be remembered for something..."

"Yeah, that's exactly why I did it." Carla replied, sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that deep down I actually care about you, and couldn't bear to watch you go through this alone."

Rob wrinkled his nose, somewhat embarrassed by his sister's confession. In the past, he'd often felt suffocated by Carla's need to seemingly control him. In reality he knew it was simply because she cared. In fact, Carla had often acted like more of a mother to him than their own had. Despite his initial reservations, he was glad that she was here now.

"Thanks, sis..." He whispered, offering a subtle smile. She shrugged, wrapping her arms around his waist.

The door burst open, and their mother entered the room, a tissue pressed up to her nose.

"What the hell did you do that for?" She yelled, as soon as the door had closed behind her. "Was it not enough for you to watch me lose him? Now I'm going to lose you as well!"

"Not everything is about you." Carla stated, through gritted teeth. She felt Rob place a steady arm around her shoulders.

"She did what she thought was best, mum..." He tried to calm her. He would always take Carla's side in an argument against their mother, whether he thought she was right or not.

"He needed someone on his side. At least if I'm with him there's more chance for me to protect him." Carla explained, although their mother wasn't listening.

"I'm losing both of my children!" She wailed, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue once again.

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." Carla sneered, sarcastically. "It's hardly going to be a loss, is it? You haven't been there for us since the day dad left. Why should you suddenly start caring now?"

"I did my best for you!" She snapped, jabbing a finger in their direction. Carla laughed, taking Rob by surprise.

"Oh really? Who was it going out to work to provide for us? Who was it that stopped eating so Rob could get a decent meal? Who's money was it you stole to feed your habit?" Carla shouted, finally losing her temper. Her mother looked taken aback.

"Well, I hope you're happy with your decision." She sniffed. "You won't have to put up with me anymore."

She approached Rob, arms open for a hug. He gave her what she wanted, carefully eyeing Carla while he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you, son. Stay safe." She whispered.

"I love you too." He replied, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back tears.

As she pulled away, she took Carla's hand. For some unknown reason, she didn't resist.

"I'm sorry, love." She pulled her into a hug. For the first time in years, Carla allowed herself to relax in her mother's arms, even going as far as wrapping her own arms around her tiny waist. "You're my brave girl. I don't know what I'll do without you."

They pulled away from each other as the door of the room was opened. Their time was up. As their mother reached the doorway, she turned around, taking in one last look at her children.

"Look after each other..." She said, before leaving the room in tears.

"She hasn't got much faith in us, has she?" Carla pointed out, trying, in her usual way, to make light of the situation.

"She's just being realistic." Rob sighed. He turned to Carla, a serious expression on his face. "Carla, no one from District 12 ever makes it through the first two days. We don't stand a chance."

"Please don't give up already."

"Why would it be any different for us? You've just admitted you haven't had a decent meal in god knows how long, which, by the way, I'm not happy about. What were you thinking?"

"Right, we're doing that now are we?" The last thing Carla wanted was an argument. "The difference is, Rob, that we have each other."

Robs eyes dropped to the floor. "There can only be one winner..."

Before Carla had the chance to formulate a response, the door was pushed open once again.

"Time to go." A man they didn't recognise stated. They met each other's eyes once more, Rob taking Carla's hand, and left the building.


	3. Chapter 3

Carla gazed out of the train window, marvelling at how quickly the barren landscape of District 12 sped past outside, as she took a final look at the place that had been her home for 18 years. She could just about make out the tiny roofs of small, distant houses over the horizon, before being replaced by a vast expanse of forest. She had never been on a train before; least of all one this luxurious. She was sure that the carriage they sat in now was bigger than their entire house.

"I never thought I'd get to see what was beyond the walls of District 12..." She thought aloud, transfixed by the landscape speeding past on the other side of the glass.

"Just a shame it's not in better circumstances." Rob stated, also watching the window intently.

Carla nodded, absentmindedly.

Growing up, she'd often wondered how different her life could have been if she hadn't been born to an absent father and an alcoholic mother in the pits of District 12. Perhaps she wouldn't have had to grow up so fast: to learn about the horrors of the real world at such a young age. Perhaps she would have been more hesitant to volunteer for the Hunger Games, if she'd thought there was anything about her life worth living for.

It hadn't always been like this. Before their dad left, things had been different. Being only four years old at the time, Carla had only one distinct memory; which she treasured more than any other.

She remembered her father holding her tiny hand in his, rough and calloused against her unblemished skin, as they wandered through the meadow of District 12: her mother walking only feet behind, a picnic basket in one hand, Rob sat on her hip, supported by the other.

She remembered her father swinging her through the air, laughing as her face contorted into giggles every time he raised her over his head. She remembered how gently he spoke to her, pointing out each flower in the meadow: explaining its name and what it could be used for; being sure to point out that no flower was as pretty as the girl in his arms.

But most of all, she remembered being happy. A feeling that she hadn't felt since, or thought she ever would again. And yet, she could still remember exactly how it felt to be curled up in his strong arms: safe and content.

Ironically, it was this, the happiest memory she had, that always led to the worst: the one moment in her life she wished she could forget.

She stirred in the middle of the night, on that same wonderful day, to the sound of shouting from the family room. Perhaps it was a case of her being half asleep, but these unfamiliar noises didn't frighten her. She lay still in her bed, with Rob asleep on the opposite side of the room, trying to make out the conversation. In all her concentration, she couldn't hear a word, and instead promptly fell back to sleep.

By the time she awoke the next morning, he had gone.

He never even said goodbye.

"You okay?" Rob asked, quietly, upon noticing the scowl set across his sister's face. She startled, shaking the memory away, focussing her attention on her concerned brother. She offered him a smile.

He couldn't remember their father. Perhaps that was for the best.

"I'm fine." She said, settling for the easiest answer she could give. "Are you?"

"Yeah, alright. You know, considering." He nodded. Carla sighed.

The sound of the carriage door sliding open drew both of their attention. A weary looking Roy stepped over the threshold, followed by Sally Webster: their favourite person to mock. Carla heard Rob snort, and quickly kicked him, trying desperately to keep a straight face herself.

Roy stopped a few inches away from where Carla and Rob were sat, his lips pressed together, eyes cast nervously towards the ground. Sally, in contrast, strutted towards the pair, perching in the empty seat next to Rob, a wide smile plastered across her face.

"Well, wasn't that exciting!" She chirped, her gaze switching between the two of them. Carla felt bile rising in her throat.

"I would say it were more of a tragedy." Roy began, inching past Sally and settling down in the seat next to Carla. "A necessity of the unfortunate circumstances. But incredibly brave, nonetheless." He nodded to himself, his eye-line directed past Carla and out of the window. She found herself staring at him intently. No one had ever called her brave before. She certainly didn't feel it.

"Yes, well... Roy and I are here to oversee your journey to the Games. Ensure you get the necessary training and guidance." Sally explained, enthusiastically.

"Right. So what do we do?" Rob asked, his gaze falling upon Roy. "Once we're in there, what do we do?"

Three pairs of eyes were intently set upon Roy, whose own were still focussed on the passing trees. After a few moments, he came up with an answer.

"Well, that would all depend." He said, vaguely. Rob sighed.

"On what?" He pushed, somewhat frustrated. Carla shot him a look.

"On your current abilities. How favourable your survival skills are. Of course, you will be given the opportunity to improve them, although it is always encouraged to persist with that which you are already familiar."

"So?"

"He wants to know what we're good at, Rob." Carla pointed out. A small smile crossed Roy's lips. It was unusual for the teenagers he mentored to understand his way of explaining things straight away.

"Oh right, well..." Rob thought for a moment.

"We've had our fair share of fist fights." Carla suggested. Rob nodded eagerly, seeking approval from his new mentor. Roy sighed.

"I'm not sure that level of violence will suffice." He stated. "Have you ever brandished a weapon?"

The two of them shook their heads. Roy nodded, understandingly.

"That is probably for the best. We will have to proceed with my own preferred tactics. You both seem like bright young people to me."

Carla gave Rob a side eyed glance, as Roy continued.

"I usually encourage tributes to run as far away from the initial bloodbath as possible. Everything you will need to survive can be found elsewhere in the arena. There is no need to risk your lives at the earliest stage of the competition."

"No offence, Roy, but that's never worked in the past, has it?" Rob voiced the concern he and Carla shared. She noticed a pained expression flash across Roy's face. He cleared his throat.

"Yes, you may be right there. But it's clear the two of you have something that no tributes before you ever did."

"And what's that?" Carla pushed.

"A desperate wish for the other to survive."


	4. Chapter 4

Carla woke with a start in a room that was uncomfortably unfamiliar. She rolled over in the double bed, allowing her eyes to glance out of the floor to ceiling windows at the edge of the room. 34 stories up, the view of the city below was breath-taking. Twinkling lights danced across the blackness; the city unable to sleep in anticipation and excitement for the upcoming Games. Carla's stomach twisted in knots.

She sat up, her back pressing into the mountain of pillows stacked behind her. Glancing around the room, she curled her knees into her chest, seeking comfort from the panic that was slowly rising within her. She rubbed at her eyes, trails of last night's make up imprinting on her hand.

The previous day had been a total blur. The train had rolled into the Capitol in the early hours of the morning, pulling up alongside eleven others carrying teams of competitors. They'd been hurried into a building just outside the station, with no opportunity to take in their surroundings. There, they'd been introduced to their styling team, who prepared them for the evening's event.

All twenty-four tributes had been paraded through the city: crowds of people along every street craning their necks to catch a glimpse of this year's competitors. At every corner, people took bets on the winner.

Carla had kept her eyes fixed forward, grateful to have her brother beside her. The two had remained strong, not allowing themselves to crack in front of all of these people who, in less than a week's time, could be watching their deaths.

But now, alone in this new bedroom, Carla couldn't hold it in. She'd held it together: for the crowds, for her mother, for Rob; but it was all getting too much. She was terrified. Unable to stand the silence any longer, she kicked off the satin sheets that encased her, climbed out of the bed and trudged across the plush carpet to the door of the room. Quietly, she pushed it open.

The apartment they had been housed in was unlike anything she'd ever set foot in. It was a maze of bedrooms and sitting rooms, filled with ornate furniture, the likes of which she'd never seen before. As she crept along the hallway, she had never felt more out of place. Not even as a child, surrounded by other children whose lives had been so different from her own.

* * *

_Carla dragged her feet along the gravel path, as she did every day on her way home from school. Today, however, had been particularly painful._

_No one else understood. All the other children had their families: mums and dads and brothers and sisters. They all lived such sheltered lives; skipping home from school to a hot meal and a warm embrace. Carla would have killed to be in their shoes. Perhaps if she had been, she wouldn't have had to face their torrent of teasing day in, day out. If she had just been like everyone else._

_But she wasn't, and today it felt more obvious than ever. Trudging down the dusty path towards their dreary house: the one place she dreaded more than school; she couldn't help the tear that escaped her eye. She balled her fist, wiping it quickly away. She couldn't show weakness. Not in front of Rob. Certainly not in front of her mother. She couldn't help but grieve for what could have been, if he hadn't walked away._

_Five years to the day. Five years since her life changed forever. Five years since the best, and worst day of her life._

_She loathed him. Any feelings of love towards the man that had been her father had been lost years ago. How could he just leave? She could never forgive him._

_She took a deep breath, pushing open the front door. The stench of alcohol hit her like a brick wall: even more so than on any other day. Clearly her mother, despite her drunkenness, couldn't forget the day either. As Carla shut the door firmly behind her, blocking out the spring breeze, her mother raised her head from where she had been slumped on the kitchen table: a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes. It vanished as soon as it had appeared, as she laid eyes on her daughter._

_"Oh, it's you." She slurred. Carla remained still and silent. She knew who her mother had hoped for. The same man the young girl herself had longed would walk through the door for so many years before. Unlike her mother, she'd lost all hope of him ever coming back. She couldn't blame him._

_"Where's Rob?" She whispered, slipping off her shoes beside the door. Her mother shrugged._

_"Dunno." She stated, her head slumping back onto the table. Carla took this as her opportunity to pass her, intent on heading to the bedroom she hoped Rob would be hiding in. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough._

_Her mother's spindly fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She sat up, pulling Carla towards her._

_"Aren't you gonna ask me the question?" She sneered. Carla cringed as her breath hit her face. She shook her head. Her mother frowned, pointedly._

_"But you've tortured me with it every other year. Why not now? What's changed?" She taunted, her grip still vice like around Carla's wrist. She gulped._

_"I don't want to know the answer anymore." She whispered. Her mother laughed: a piercing cackle that made the young girl flinch._

_"And I was finally ready to give it to you." She stated, dryly. "Come on, Carla, you're a big girl now. Ask me the question." She said, sweetly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Carla's ear._

_"No..." She whispered, her eyes pleading. She tried to free herself from her mother, before the rage she knew was bubbling could reach full peak. At ten years old, she had finally begun to understand the patterns of her mother's behaviour. She knew when to fight, and when to fly. This was definitely a moment for the latter._

_"Ask me the question!" Her mother shrieked, her free hand crashing down on the table. Carla jumped, tears instantly springing into her eyes, recoiling as far from her mother as the hand on her wrist would allow. She swallowed the lump in her throat, as the first tear fell._

_"Why?" She whispered. "Why did he leave?"_

_Her mother smirked: a wide, evil smile stretching across her face._

_"Because I told him the truth about you." She stated. She leant in towards Carla, carefully brushing away her tears. "I think it's sweet, you know. How you cried for him. Mourned for him. Waited for him to come back. When all along, he wasn't even your real daddy."_

* * *

Carla stepped into the main living area of the apartment, expecting to be alone, especially considering the late hour. She was surprised to find a corner lamp shining softly: the armchair beneath it occupied by a figure hunched over a book. Not wanting to disturb them, Carla swiftly turned away. As she took a step, a deliberate cough echoed through the room.

"Carla?" A soft voice asked. She spun around to find Roy glancing at her over the top of his book. She suddenly felt quite self-conscious in her pyjamas.

"Sorry Roy, I didn't mean to disturb you..." She apologised, preparing to leave almost immediately. Roy shook his head, beckoning her towards him.

"I'm quite glad of the company." He mused. He gestured towards the empty chair beside him, encouraging her to take a seat. She followed politely, perching on the edge of the seat, as Roy's focus returned to his book once again. She watched him curiously for several minutes, as he carefully turned the pages. It wasn't long before curiosity got the better of her.

"What are you reading?" She whispered, not wanting to disturb him too much.

"It's about bats." He stated, eyes still focussed on the page in front of him. "They're very interesting creatures."

"Sure." Carla replied politely. "They find their prey through echolocation, right?" Roy's lips turned up at the corners, twitching into a slight smile. He carefully shut the book, placing it in his lap.

"Indeed. They hide away during the day until their own predators are asleep, before emerging at night to hunt. A rather intelligent tactic."

"Are you suggesting it's one we should use?" Carla queried, her thoughts once again falling on the upcoming Games. Roy sighed.

"It's difficult to decipher at this stage the best tactics to take." He replied, honestly. "Tomorrow will give us a better indication of what to expect."

Carla had been dreading this day since the moment she had stepped foot on stage at the Reaping. It was the day that all twenty-four tributes would begin their training: watching each other like hawks; wheedling out the lambs from the wolves.

"I don't know if I can do it." She thought aloud, her gaze falling to the ground. Roy nodded understandingly. "There's gonna be kids in there that have trained their entire lives to win the Games. Me and Rob? We've spent our whole lives fending off our drunken mother and waiting to see where our next meal will come from."

"There will also be young people who have lived their whole lives in comfort, having been handed things on a plate. There will be young people who have never once known what it is like to go hungry." Roy replied.

"Good for them..." Carla mumbled.

"It is my opinion that those people will be at a somewhat disadvantage. They don't call it the Hunger Games for nothing."

"So, you're saying we have a chance?"

Roy nodded, contentedly. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit."

Carla snorted. She wasn't sure there was anything to give herself credit for.

"You're very kind, Roy. But I think you may be mistaking me for somebody else. I'm just a half starved, teenaged tearaway who made a stupid split-second decision."

"Now, I don't think even you believe that. What you did at the Reaping took incredible bravery, and you didn't even think twice about it. There are many young people who would have looked the other way, even when it came to their own siblings. But you're different, Carla."

"Careful, Roy. I won't be able to get my head out of the door if you carry on." She teased, feeling somewhat embarrassed. She wasn't used to such kind words of advice, especially not from the adults in her life.

"I am merely suggesting that whilst you may look in the mirror and see a 'half starved, teenaged tearaway', other people will look at you and see a survivor."

"I don't feel like one." Carla whispered. She glanced up, studying the expression on Roy's face. It was one of contemplation. "I'm scared, Roy." She admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

"I would be concerned if you weren't." He replied, gently.

"I know I'm not going to make it out alive. And I'm okay with that. I just need to survive long enough to get Rob through it. I'm terrified of letting him down."

"You're a very admirable young woman." Roy stated. "Although, I can't help but suspect that if you're here feeling this way, then your brother may be feeling the same."

Carla paused. She'd spent a considerable amount of time wallowing in her own self-pity, and hadn't stopped to consider how her little brother would be feeling. He was all alone, as she had been only minutes before, probably having the exact same thoughts of fear and loneliness.

"You think I should go and see him?"

"I feel it may be beneficial for you both."

Carla thought for a moment. She didn't know if she could face him: look him in the eyes; without breaking down. She took a deep breath, knowing deep down that Roy was right. She stood up, watching as Roy turned a page of the book he'd picked up once again.

"Thanks, Roy." She whispered. He nodded, without diverting his eyes from the words he was reading.

Carla trudged out of the sitting room and down the corridor, towards the bedroom that housed Rob for the night. Taking a breath, she carefully pushed open the door. Stepping into the room, she took sight of him curled up on his side facing the opposite wall.

"Rob?" She whispered, afraid of waking him from any peaceful sleep he may be having.

"Hmm?" He mumbled, rolling over to face her.

"Were you asleep?" She asked. He shook his head. Sitting up, he patted the sheets beside him, beckoning her to sit down. She climbed onto the bed, settling down next to him. As she shimmied beneath the quilted covers, Rob flinched.

"What?"

"Your feet are cold!" Rob stated, shifting his legs away from her. She rolled her eyes. "What are you doing up anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep." She replied. "Spoke to Roy..."

"Ooh, I bet that was thrilling!" Rob mocked. Carla lightly punched his arm.

"He's only trying to help, you know. He doesn't enjoy this any more than we do."

Rob shrugged. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help but hate anyone involved in the Games.

"This feels better." He stated, after a few moments pause.

"What does?" Carla questioned.

"You being here. We've always shared a room, haven't we? That's probably why I couldn't sleep."

"And I bet you could just drift off right this second, if it weren't for my scintillating conversation." Carla teased. Rob narrowed his eyes.

"You've been spending too much time with that Roy." He stated. "You keep saying big words that don't make any sense."

Carla scoffed. "Like what?"

"Scintillating." He said, mocking her tone of voice. She shook her head, giggling.

"Sorry. I can't help having a naturally advanced vocabulary." She teased, putting on a posh voice. As their giggling died down, she thought for a moment. "I suppose you're right though. About the separate room thing. It did feel weird."

"Exactly. I've never slept in a room without you in it." Rob contemplated. "Even that night you ran away, I didn't sleep. Strange, isn't it."

"Yeah..."

"Where did you go?"

"When?"

"When you ran away."

Carla laughed.

"I can't believe you still remember that."

"Of course I do."

Carla thought for a moment. She remembered that night so clearly.

* * *

_"Sorry..." Rob said, as Carla winced. More gently this time, he pressed the damp cloth against the scratch across her cheek._

_"I can do it myself; you know." Carla snapped, snatching the cloth from her little brother's hand. He pulled his hand away, visibly upset. Carla softened._

_"Sorry." She said, holding her hand out to him. He took it, carefully examining her face._

_"It's already starting to bruise..." He stated, panicking. Carla shrugged._

_"It'll be fine." She reassured him. They sat in silence for a few moments on the edge of Carla's bed, the image of his sister trying to fend off their mother etched into Rob's mind._

_"Do you wanna talk about it?" Rob questioned. Carla shook her head firmly, tight lipped. She glanced at her brother._

_"Do you?"_

_"No."_

_"Can you go and check on her?" She asked, gently. He shook his head._

_"I don't want to. I hate her." He said, firmly._

_"No, you don't, Rob." Carla sighed. Whilst she and her mother had always had a strained relationship, they had tried to keep it away from Rob. And yet, more and more frequently he had become entangled in their arguments._

_"I do." He confirmed._

_"Rob, what just happened was my fault."_

_"It didn't look like it to me."_

_"Well, you only saw half of it. I got rid of her vodka. I brought it on myself."_

_"You didn't deserve a beating for it." Rob pointed out. He collapsed backwards on the bed, glaring at the crack that spanned the width of the ceiling. "Why can't we just have nice, normal parents? What did we do that was so bad?" He thought aloud. Carla let her eyes drift closed, as her chest tightened._

_"Go and see her Rob." She pushed. "Please. For me."_

_Rob sighed. "Fine. Whatever." He stood up, stomping out of the room._

_He dragged his feet through the kitchen, stopping in the doorway of his mother's bedroom. He sighed as he caught sight of her, slumped against the wardrobe, in a semi-comatose state._

_He approached her cautiously, wary of any sudden outburst. She raised her head slightly, and offered him a smile._

_"What are you doing on the floor, mum?" He asked, sharply. She shrugged._

_"I don't know." She slurred. She reached out her arms to him, like a toddler wishing to be lifted up. Reluctantly, Rob pulled her up, helping her onto the bed._

_"Where's Carla?"_

_"Like you care..." Rob scolded. His mother's eyes fell to the ground, a hint of sadness flashing across her face. "She's in the bedroom."_

_"I need to see her." She decided, pushing herself to her feet. She wobbled, grabbing onto Rob's shoulders for balance, before collapsing back onto the bed._

_"No, you don't." Rob said. "You need to sober up. Here, let me help..." Rob helped his mother slip off her shoes, before guiding her beneath the sheets. She looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Carefully, she reached out to stroke his cheek._

_"I'm sorry..." She whispered. "Tell her I'm sorry." Rob stepped away, out of his mother's reach._

_"Tell her yourself." He declared, refusing to be the messenger in yet another of their rows. It always ended like this: Carla nursing an injury, their mother wallowing in self-pity, and Rob caught in the middle._

_As a child, he'd always thought that Carla could take on anyone. She'd fought nearly everyone in her year at school, and some of the older kids too. And yet, as he got older, he'd realised that she was no match for their mother. Fighting other kids was one thing, but defending herself from an erratic drunk twice her size was a totally different ball game._

_He glanced back towards where his mother was collapsed beneath the sheets of her bed, finally passed out from the alcohol. Shaking his head, he left the room, and headed back to the one he shared with his sister._

_"She's passed out." He said, as he crossed the threshold. Glancing around the room, his stomach dropped. "Carla?" He called out, tentatively._

_She was nowhere to be seen. The cloth she'd been using to nurse her wound lay strewn across the bed. He turned back towards the kitchen, searching for the spot where her boots should be sat by the front door. They, like their owner, were gone._

_Rob returned to the bedroom, collapsing onto his own single bed against the opposite wall. He kept his eye on the door, ears open for the sound of her footsteps on the gravel outside. As each hour passed, his eyes grew heavier, and the reality of Carla returning grew less and less. His worries only grew stronger as the sun began to rise outside the window, and the birds began their morning song. Who knew what could have happened to her?_

She couldn't have just left him. She had to come back.

* * *

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again..." Rob admitted. Carla rolled her eyes.

"Well, you always were a drama queen!" She laughed. Rob shot her a look. "Sorry..." She let out a sigh, thinking back to the night in question.

"I just needed to get out. I didn't know where I was going, or what I was going to do. It just felt like the walls were closing in. I couldn't deal with it anymore. I couldn't deal with _her_ anymore. I just needed a clean break. Somehow, I found my way to the meadow, and I just laid down and looked up at the sky." She sighed, glancing at Rob, who was listening intently. "In all honesty, I wasn't sure if I'd come back either. But by the morning, I was so cold and damp, that I just came back anyway." She giggled, nudging Rob with her elbow.

"Oh great, you'll be useful in the arena then!" Rob teased. The mood in the room shifted: a sombreness falling like a veil over them both. Carla caught his eye, her face serious once more.

"It wasn't just that. I knew you wouldn't survive without me. I couldn't leave you alone with her." She admitted. Rob sighed.

"You don't have much faith in me, do you?" He laughed, attempting to lighten the mood once again. Carla refused to take the bait.

"It's okay to be scared, Rob." She whispered. "God knows I am."

"It's the not knowing that's the worst. How are we supposed to prepare when we don't know what we're going to be faced with?" Rob pointed out. Carla shrugged.

"I guess we just have to be ready for anything..." She said. "We just need to get through one day at a time. Starting with tomorrow."

Rob nodded, knowingly. "A good night's sleep would probably help..." He pointed out. Carla nodded, pushing the sheets off of her. Rob stopped her.

"You don't have to go." He said.

"My cold feet might keep you awake..." Carla teased.

"Just shift up a bit. You could fit a small army in this bed!" He pointed out. Carla laughed.

"How the other half live, hey?" She giggled, settling down beneath the sheets. "Night Rob."

"Night, Car..."

Carla let her eyes drift closed, not fighting the sleep that was ready to consume her. Rob was right: a good night's sleep was just what they needed to get ready for the challenges the next day would bring.

Tomorrow, the real test would begin. For the first time, they would come face to face with their competitors: the people they would either kill, or be killed by. This thought had occupied Carla's mind for almost every waking hour. Each moment that passed; each tick of a clock hand; brought them closer to the arena: to the Games that could cost them their lives. But for tonight, at least, they were safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"If anyone speaks to you, make sure you're polite. You don't have to become the best of friends, but I don't want anyone thinking badly of us. We have a reputation to uphold." Sally lectured relentlessly, as the team from District 12 took the elevator down to the training centre. Rob rolled his eyes: a movement that had become all too frequent between the siblings, whilst Carla fixed hers to the geometric pattern on the floor. Her stomach was in knots, filled with apprehension for what lay ahead.

"I'm inclined to believe that it would be more beneficial for the two of you to keep yourselves to yourselves." Roy interjected Sally's seemingly unending speech, "Do what you need to do in order to sufficiently prepare yourselves."

"Yes, thank you, Roy." Sally murmured, somewhat irritated by his interruption.

"Don't be put off by the Gamemakers. They will be assessing you throughout, deciding who they think is likely to win, and, of course, who will make the best television." Roy continued, clearly oblivious to Sally's interjection.

"No pressure, then…" Carla mumbled beneath her breath.

A pinging sound echoed around the four walls of the elevator, signalling their arrival at the bottom floor. The knot in Carla's stomach tightened further.

"Good luck!" Sally chirped, as the doors rattled open. Rob and Carla shared a glance, before stepping out into the training centre.

Carla took a deep breath as the doors closed behind them, separating them from their mentors. Glancing around the room, she took in the sight before her.

The room was already bustling with other tributes starting to undertake their training. Every spare corner of the room was taken up by various training stations. Each one offered something different, from basic survival skills to yielding weapons. There were body-shaped targets everywhere, and weapons hanging on racks; metal blades glinting beneath the artificial lights. Carla felt a shiver run down her spine.

A balcony above the room caught her eye. It was adorned with tables and chairs, which were beginning to fill. It was where the Gamemakers would sit and watch: a good vantage point from which to assess each competitor. It made sense, Carla thought. The Gamemakers were in charge of ensuring the Hunger Games ran smoothly, and that the best moments were caught on camera and aired to the general public. They controlled everything that happened inside the arena; from arena-wide natural disasters to the smaller details, like which weapon would be placed where. Carla knew she had to make a good impression, if she wanted to stand any chance of winning over at least one of them.

She took a few steps into the room, her footsteps echoing on the hard floor. She was relieved that the other tributes were too involved in their own tasks to notice her. She turned to Rob, who was also taking in the scene, a mixture of confusion and amazement etched across his face.

"Where do you wanna start?" Carla questioned. Earlier that morning, they and Roy had come up with a plan. It was their intentions to stay together inside the arena in order to protect one another: therefore, Roy had suggested that they split up for their training sessions, in order to master as many skills between them as possible.

"I don't mind… Maybe over there." Rob replied, motioning to where another boy, with pale skin and dark hair, was learning how to shoot a bow and arrow. Carla nodded.

"Okay, then. See you later." She smiled, nervously. Rob gave her hand a squeeze; a final gesture of comfort; before heading towards his destination. Carla took few more moments to look around. She wasn't sure where to start. If Rob was planning on learning to attack, then perhaps her best bet was to get some survival skills under her belt.

She'd never really been one for surviving in the wilderness. Yes, the meadow beside her home in District 12 had always been a safe haven, but spending a night out there every few years was hardly the survival challenge of the century.

She wandered slowly towards an empty station that would teach her how to light a fire without the need of any matches. _Well, it's a start._ She thought. As long as she could learn enough to keep herself and Rob alive for as long as possible, she was willing to give anything a go.

She spent over an hour perfecting the skill, until she was sure she had mastered it. No matter what happened in the arena, at least she knew they wouldn't freeze to death. Although, knowing Carla's luck, they'd probably end up in some kind of desert, trying to fight off the heat. Well, at least she'd tried.

As Carla wandered away from the station, she glanced around at what else she could try. As she passed through the different areas, analysing each skill and how effective it would be for her, her eyes fell upon a girl roughly her age, with long, brunette hair scraped effortlessly into a high ponytail. She was fiddling with a knife, her eyes locked on a target five metres ahead of her. With one sweep of her arm, the knife left her grip and hit the target straight on.

Carla watched, transfixed, as the girl repeated this process a further three times, hitting the centre of the target perfectly each time. She was amazed by her accuracy; how effortlessly she managed each throw. She could tell that she would have no trouble surviving alone in the arena.

Carla was caught off guard when the girl span round and met her eyes. She suddenly felt uneasy, remembering that this was a competition; where fame and fortune awaited the winner, and death was the only consolation prize; and that every minute she spent enviously watching other people was a minute less she could spend preparing herself. What's more, she'd probably just alerted this girl to how easy a target she would be; what with her stood alone, looking gormless as she took note of the girl's skill.

She was ready for the girl to square up to her; ask her what she was looking at. Or at least scoff, looking her up and down. Instead, the girl's lips turned up ever so slightly at the corner. Not menacingly, as she would have expected, but in a way that would have been friendly, if it weren't for the circumstances.

"Do you want to try?" The girl asked, politely, holding out a knife towards Carla. She shrugged. This girl had obviously been given the same lecture about manners from her mentor that Carla and Rob had received just over an hour earlier.

"Not sure I could match that." She laughed, honestly.

"I could always give you some pointers." The girl replied, kindly. Carla narrowed her eyes, suspicious of any ulterior motives that may accompany the girl's offer. She appeared oblivious to Carla's confusion, taking a step towards her and holding out a hand to shake.

"I'm Michelle. District 11."

Carla took her hand, shaking it firmly. "Carla. District 12."

"I know. You're the one with the brother." Michelle stated, confidently. Carla nodded, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. That's me." She replied, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. Clearly, her reputation preceded her. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but she supposed that it was obvious the other tributes would have known what happened at the Reaping. After all, it was televised in every district immediately after the event. Whilst the Reapings of the other districts had played on one of the tiny television screens on the train, Carla had tried her best not to engage with it. She was too worried about her own situation to watch the same thing happen to twenty-two other teenagers. In hindsight, she supposed she should have at least shown some interest, just to gain some insight into her competitors.

"That was really brave, you know." Michelle remarked, nonchalantly, catching Carla off guard once again. "Not many people would have done that."

"No, I guess not…" Carla mumbled, somewhat embarrassed by the attention she was getting. As she glanced away from Michelle, her eyes were drawn to the balcony above them.

Leaning on the railings stood an older man, with thick eyebrows and aging skin. He was dressed in smart trousers, with a matching jacket; something far more extravagant than anyone in District 12 could ever afford. Carla recognised the man to be Johnny Connor: Head Gamemaker. He was the man in charge of the logistics of the Games. Every decision was made by him. He had complete control. And now, he was watching Carla intently.

Carla gulped, as she felt her face begin to flush. She told herself that he would be watching everyone in turn, and she'd just so happened to have looked up as he was watching her. Even so, she felt uneasy. She needed to prove herself, and this was the time to do it.

She turned her attention back to Michelle. "Okay then, show me how to do this."

Michelle smiled, handing Carla a knife. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the sharp edge of the blade, imagining what damage it could do. The thought made her feel suddenly queasy. Throwing it at a target would be one thing, but hitting another human being? She wasn't sure she'd be capable of it.

"Just take your time. It's all in the action of the wrist." Michelle explained. She stood back, giving Carla the space to attempt the task.

Carla lifted her elbow, narrowing her eyes to focus on the target in front of her. She took a deep breath, before flicking her lower arm forwards and releasing her grip on the knife. It spun through the air at a slightly slower pace than Michelle's had, before hitting the target several inches to the right of the centre.

Carla assessed her handiwork for a few moments, pleased that she hadn't missed the target entirely. She turned to face Michelle.

"You need to aim to the left a bit." She said, as Carla nodded in agreement. "Not bad though. Try again."

As Carla turned back around to retrieve the weapon, she came face to face with a group of teens, arms folded and preparing to square up.

"It's our turn, now." The leader, a thin, blonde girl, stated bluntly, looking Carla up and down.

Carla knew exactly who they were. Every year, a group of tributes, usually from Districts 1 and 2, would volunteer for the Games. They spent their whole lives training for it, and more often than not, ended up winning. They'd team up at the very beginning, killing off everyone else, until they ended up turning on each other, until only one of them was left. They were known to everyone as the Careers. Carla didn't much fancy her chances against them, but wasn't prepared to let them scare her off that easily.

"I haven't finished yet." She replied, curtly, taking a step towards them and crossing her own arms. The gobby blonde started to laugh.

"Oh, this one's got an attitude…" She addressed the group behind her, keeping her eyes trained on Carla. They laughed along, menacingly.

"Carla…" Michelle whispered, wrapping a hand around her arm. "It's not worth it."

"Yeah, run along, twelve!" The Career laughed. "See you in the arena!"

Carla stumbled as Michelle dragged her away. She glowered at the Careers from a distance, watching smugly as one of them missed the target. _Ha!_ She thought. _Small victories._

"Well, looks like you're number one on their hit list now." Michelle stated. Carla shrugged.

"It was worth it though. I'm not gonna let them think they can just bully everyone before we've even got into the arena." Carla admitted.

"Well I hope you're right. That Leanne has probably been bullying people since she learned to talk. Wouldn't put it past her, gobby cow." Michelle spat, glaring at the blonde from a safe distance.

"You really pay attention to the Reapings, don't you?" Carla acknowledged.

"It pays to be prepared."

"So, do you know all of their names?" Carla pressed, hoping to drag as much out of Michelle as she possibly could.

"Yep. Gobby blonde is Leanne, she's vicious, but more likely than not all talk. The other girl, with the dark hair just behind her is Tracy. She's nuts. You can tell just by looking at her. The tall boy is Nick. He's obviously hen pecked. They'll get what they want out of him and then leave him for the vultures. Same for the little, ginger one. That's Gary. I wouldn't worry about him alone, but when they're all together they'll be tough to beat."

"Impressive." Carla stated. She narrowed her eyes. "So, what about me?"

"What?"

"Well, if you're so good at reading people, what about me?" Carla tested, curious as to what Michelle would come up with. Would she tell the truth, or be deliberately vague? She had probably already realised that there was no hope for her, and just felt sorry for her.

"You're different. I base it all off stereotypes and my experiences watching the Games. No one from District 12 has ever done anything like you. You're like a totally different breed."

"In a good way, I hope…" Carla laughed, awkwardly.

"It would be impossible to make assumptions about you. Whereas Rob…" Michelle began, as Carla's ears pricked up with interest. "He's a dark horse. There's definitely something about him."

Carla glanced around the room, searching for where Rob could be. She spotted him on the other side, wrestling some poor assistant. She rolled her eyes. She had initially been joking when she said fighting was their only skill, but she supposed that if it came down to it, that could be the only thing they had left.

"What about the other one from your district?" Carla asked, turning her attention back to Michelle.

"Steve? Oh, don't worry about him. He'll be useless." She said, brushing it off.

"Really?" Carla asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yep. And he made it quite clear that he wants nowt to do with me either. Won't even let us be mentored together." She said, making no attempt to hide the sarcastic look on her face.

"No way." Carla indulged.

"Yes, way. It's like all that shared history, growing up together: same school, same class; it's like none of it even matters. We may as well be totally on our own."

"Sounds like you're well shot of him…" Carla said. She couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to stand by their teammate. She knew it was easy to think that way in her position, what with hers being her own flesh and blood. But surely, amongst all of this madness, of what would most likely be the final days of their lives, they'd want to see a familiar face. Someone they'd grown up with that they could at least talk to. But then again, when it came down to it, they were competitors. After all, there could only be one winner. Perhaps it was better to burn all bridges as soon as possible, to save the difficulty of suffering that person's loss in the arena. Even so, Carla found it hard to imagine completely abandoning someone she'd known all her life.

She turned her attention back to Rob, who had pinned the assistant to the ground, before helping him up and patting him on the back. He turned, spotted Carla across the room, and beckoned her over.

"Looks like little bro wants you." Michelle pointed out, her eyes following Carla's.

"Yeah. I'd better see what he wants." She stated. Michelle nodded in understanding.

"Go ahead." She smiled. As Carla began to turn, she felt a small hand on her arm once more. "Good luck." Michelle said, sincerely. Carla nodded her thanks.

"You too." She said, quietly, before heading in Rob's direction.

She wandered towards him, past where the Careers were continuing their training; laughing loudly and behaving boisterously. She refused to give them the satisfaction of looking at them. Instead, she focussed her eyes on the ground.

She soon found this to be a mistake, as she walked straight into another tribute.

"Hey, watch it!" He said, catching her as she lost her balance. She looked up at him, analysing his features, her eyes meeting his soft brown ones.

"Sorry." She said, stepping to the side to overtake and continue on her way.

He stepped to the left, blocking her path. She looked at him in confusion.

"Excuse me?" She quipped. He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Alright, feisty." He said. "Cor, they were right what they've been saying about District 12…" He added, glancing up and down, taking her in from top to bottom.

"And what's that exactly?" Carla pressed, crossing her arms and sinking into one hip: she refused to be intimidated.

"Oh, nothing to worry your pretty head about. Let's just say, you definitely surpass expectations. I'm Peter. District 7. Pleasure to meet you."

"Is it?" Carla responded, curtly. He laughed as she pushed her way past him. She'd wasted enough time talking already, and she wasn't about to waste any more on… What was this? Flirting? However, Peter wasn't about to let her slip away quite so easily.

"So, from what I've heard on the grapevine, you're quite the martyr." He pushed. "So, come on then, what's your strength? How are you gonna fight off the competition?" He teased, breezing along beside her, hands arrogantly stuffed into his pockets.

"I'm good with my fists." She replied, bluntly, refusing to rise to his challenge. He snorted.

"Me too…" He winked; his voice low. She stopped walking; her face scrunched up in disgust.

"You're disgusting."

"You started it." He defended.

"_I _was talking about fighting."

"Oh, I know you were. But that's not going to get you far in here, is it, sweetcheeks? I think you're gonna need a strong man to look after you if you wanna stand a chance of making it past the first day." He teased.

"Well, when you find one, be sure to send him my way. Okay, darling?" Carla replied, gently tapping the palm of her hand patronisingly against his cheek. He appeared amused by the whole interaction, as if somewhat mollified having met someone who could give back everything he gave.

"I'll see you around, sweetcheeks." He winked, before marching off to the other end of the training centre. Carla watched as he went, feeling quite odd about the encounter. It was like being back at school, where they boys would pull on the girls' pigtails, desperate for a reaction. She hoped she'd given him one he would remember. There was no way she was going to be walked over.

Her eyes once again wondered up to the Gamemakers balcony, curious to see where the attention lay now. She was relieved to see that most of them were distracted by the Careers, and however it was that they were showing off now. Clearly, she'd had her moment in the limelight. For now, at least.

She felt a hand rest upon her shoulder. She didn't have to look to know that it was Rob.

"How is it going?" He asked her, wiping his brow with his forearm. Carla shrugged.

"I can successfully light a fire and throw a knife without completely missing the target. But that may have been a fluke, because I only got one go." She boasted.

Rob smirked. "Or, it could have been the start of a very successful knife throwing career."

"Yes, well, now we'll never find out." She replied. "How about you?"

"All good here."

"Great. Well, best we crack on. I bet you can't come away from here with more new skills than me!" Carla teased. Rob laughed.

"You're on, sis!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The air felt heavy as Carla sat alone, her body quivering in anticipation and, though she didn't want to admit it, downright fear. The bench was cold and hard beneath her, and it felt as though the walls of the tiny room were closing in. The fact that it was underground didn't help matters.

She had less than an hour. Less than an hour until she would have to stand in that tiny, coffin-like tube that stood menacingly in the corner of the room, waiting patiently to lift her into the arena. The seconds seemed to drag by like days, each one filling her with a deeper sense of dread. She took a deep, shaky breath, desperately trying to calm herself down.

A soft rap at the door drew her attention.

"Hello?" She called; her voice croaky. She cleared her throat as Roy's head appeared around the door, a solemn look on his face. Carla allowed herself a smile as he entered.

"How's Rob?" She asked, her thoughts immediately falling to her brother.

"He's doing okay, considering." Roy reassured her. She felt herself relax ever so slightly. "May I?" He continued, gesturing to the bench she was sitting on. She scooted across, making enough room for him to sit beside her. "And how are you feeling?" He asked.

Carla took a moment before she answered. Usually, she'd play it off; put on a brave face to hide her insecurities. However, she knew that in these circumstances this reaction would be futile. Instead, she looked up at Roy, meeting his concerned glance, and sighed.

"Terrified." She admitted, her lower lip wobbling.

"I'd like to tell you that everything will be fine, but I know you wouldn't want me to make any promises that can't be kept." Roy said. Carla let out a laugh. "But, from the discussion I had with Rob, it sounded like the training went well."

Carla shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose."

"You don't sound too sure." Roy pointed out.

Carla sighed. Throughout the day's training, she had managed to try several different skills, some of which she wasn't too bad at. However, the same thought had occupied her mind all day: it was all very well when she was aiming at a target, but once that target became a living and breathing human being, with hopes and dreams, feelings and emotions, how could she be sure she'd still have the nerve?

She'd never killed anything in her life. Even spiders and other creepy crawlies she'd opened the window for, or escorted them to freedom between a glass and a scrap of paper. The idea of ending a life was something that seemed impossible to her. She didn't know how she was going to cope.

"What if, once I get into the arena, I panic? I've never killed anyone, Roy." She confessed. Roy smiled.

"And how many of those other tributes do you think have killed people?"

Carla thought for a moment.

"Well, the Careers-"

"-Are an exception. But even they can't be sure how they'll react when the time comes. There is only so much you can prepare." Roy said.

"And I think the Gamemakers know I'm going to be hopeless. They'll probably make it hell." Carla continued.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, Johnny kept watching me. But not just watching, it was like... I don't know. It's hard to explain. The look on his face, Roy. It was like 'I've seen this girls type before and she won't even last long enough to fill an episode'." Carla explained.

"I highly doubt that, Carla. If I know Johnny, and I do, he'll have had that same expression plastered across his face the whole day. They can't give anything away."

Carla sighed. She supposed he must be right. Having spent so much time with him over the past few days, received so much advice and care, it was hard to believe that he too had once been in her shoes.

"How did you do it?" She wondered aloud. He was quiet for a moment. Not wanting to push it, Carla simply watched him in silence, waiting until he was ready with an answer.

"With good luck." He replied, shortly. Carla furrowed her brow, unsure of what he meant. "I'm sure you're aware of the fact that I was unable to make a kill in the arena."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Carla pointed out. In truth, she thought it was the most admirable way anyone could win the Games.

"I suppose it isn't. But it's not much help for you, when it comes to receiving my guidance. If truth be told, I spent my time in the arena being in the right place at the right time: away from everybody else. My teammate ignored the instructions of our mentor and headed straight into the bloodbath as soon as the countdown was complete. I was on my own from the outset, and that's how I intended to stay."

"So you just laid low and kept out of sight?" Carla pressed. Roy nodded. "But what about the Gamemakers? Did they not push you towards the rest of the tributes?"

It was well known that the Gamemakers would often interfere with the action inside the arena. If they thought that there was not enough interesting content to show, they would cause something to happen, like a fire or an earthquake, in order to push the tributes together in the hopes that they would find each other and fight.

"Like I said, I was very lucky. There was enough going on elsewhere in the arena for them to ignore me."

"What about when it was just the two of you left? Right at the very end?"

Roy smiled, tapping his forehead lightly with his finger.

"You just have to outsmart them."

"How did you do it?"

"The final night was just me and a Career tribute. A boy from District 1. He fancied himself a bit of a hero. He was very arrogant with it: circling the centre of the arena and calling out for me. The Gamemakers released a pack of wolves to round us together. As soon as I saw him, I climbed the nearest tree. The wolves ran straight past me, and… Well, that was the end of him."

"So, what you're saying is: don't be cocky because you'll get eaten alive by dogs?"

Roy frowned, Carla's attempt at humour bypassing him completely.

"No. What I'm saying is, trust your instincts." He said, sombrely. "If you don't think you can kill, then don't do it. You're a survivor, Carla. You'll find a way."

"Thanks Roy…" Carla whispered. She looked at him for a few moments. The care he'd shown her over the past few days had been more than she'd received from any adult in her entire life. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you for everything."

Roy patted the girl tentatively on the back, not entirely comfortable with the sudden display of affection. "You don't have to thank me, I'm just doing my job."

"Not just for the mentoring, Roy." Carla pointed out. Roy sighed.

"I've grown rather fond of you." He admitted.

"I won't let you down." She promised, her head resting against his chest. It was a promise that she intended to keep. He had been the first person to have made her feel like he was proud of her, and she intended to live up to that.

The sound of a plastic door sliding open drew the attention of the pair. Carla felt her breath catch in her throat as she realised what this meant.

"It's time." Roy said, confirming her suspicions.

She slowly stood up on shaky legs, and, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, made her way towards the tube in the corner of the room. As she stepped up onto the podium, Roy cleared his throat.

"Carla?" He whispered. She turned to acknowledge him. "You are who you are. Don't lose that."

Carla nodded, as the plastic sealed around her. She turned her back on Roy, suddenly overcome with emotion. The tube was small, and the air felt thicker than it had even in the tiny room they had just been in. She struggled to take a breath. She had to stay strong. For him. And for Rob.

She thought of her brother, and how he would be feeling now. She wondered if he had the same claustrophobic feeling: the same tightness in his chest. They had come up with a plan: to run away from the Cornucopia; the central point of the arena which would hold multitudes of weapons and food, anything they could possibly need to make survival slightly easier; and instead head to whatever lay behind them. She hoped to god that he'd stick to it. If he didn't, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Probably run after him. After all, that was why she was here: to protect him. She wasn't about to abandon him the moment the Games began.

What would she do if he did end up getting into trouble? Would she have the nerve to kill, if it meant that her brother could be safe? She scolded herself for thinking that way. Nothing was going to happen to Rob. She wouldn't allow it. She had to get him through this.

She felt her stomach drop and bile rise in her throat as the floor beneath her lurched upwards: raising her up to face what would be, for twenty-three of them at least, certain death. As the hatch above her head opened, and sunlight poured in, she allowed her eyes to close. She took a deep breath.

She could do this.

She _had _to do this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**A/N – Chapters from here onwards will likely contain violence.**

Carla allowed her eyes to open, squinting in the mid-morning sun. She blinked rapidly, desperate for her eyesight to adjust so that she could begin to assess her surroundings. As the world around her came back into focus, she noticed Rob on the podium beside her. He looked small against the expansive back drop of the arena. He glanced across at her; a determined look set upon his face, and motioned subtly with a jolt of his head to the space behind them.

Carla felt herself relax slightly, knowing that this meant he intended to follow their plan. She gave a curt nod, before returning her focus to the centre of the arena.

The Cornucopia stood grand in the middle, the sun reflecting off its shining metal surface. Spilling out of it were a variety of weapons and rucksacks, among other items. Carla's eyes trailed greedily across the crates of food and containers of water stacked up in the shape of a pyramid in the mouth of the Cornucopia. Whoever managed to collect any of those would stand in good stead for the rest of the Games. It was likely that more than half of the tributes would run directly towards it as soon as the countdown finished, most of them likely losing their lives in the process.

As the countdown began to ring out through the arena, Carla shifted her focus beyond the bounty, and past the tributes on the other side of the Cornucopia. A sparse, rock landscape stretched out for miles, sloping gradually uphill and morphing into mountainous terrain. This mountain range circled the entirety of the arena; the highest points capped with crisp, white snow. The mountains behind Carla rose above a coniferous forest; the trees tall and growing closely together. The closer to the centre of the arena they got, the sparser the woodland became. Carla knew they would have to run several hundred metres before the line of trees would provide them with suitable cover.

The sixty second countdown was almost over. Carla took a deep breath.

_Ten._

A breeze lifted the ends of Carla's ponytail, flicking stray strands into her face. She brushed them quickly away, determined not to let anything spoil her focus.

_Nine._

She couldn't help but picture the thousands of people crowding around their television sets, watching this exact moment unfold. The cameras would be focussed on each tribute's face, allowing for sponsors and gamblers to make their choices: who they thought would live or die. She wondered if her mother was watching, or if she was simply too drunk to care.

_Eight._

The sound of her heart pounding in her ears was like the beat of a distant drum; it's speed increasing with each second that passed. She was sure that if she looked down, she would see it through her chest.

_Seven_

Carla's eyes fell on Leanne, standing ready across the arena. She looked calm, excited even; her feet ready to sprint towards the Cornucopia. Carla wasn't surprised that this was her tactic. The Careers were often the fastest tributes, and usually ended up in possession of most of the items piled up in the centre of the arena.

_Six._

Next to Leanne, Carla spotted another tribute, a smaller girl with long, straight, brown hair and tanned skin. She looked terrified; her eyes wide and whole-body trembling. She couldn't have been any older than fifteen. Carla felt her heart sink.

_Five._

Across the circle from the girl, she spotted Michelle. Her eyes were clearly fixed on a collection of knives a few steps from her. Carla knew that they must have been deliberately placed after her impressive display in training. She hoped Michelle would be able to reach them without getting herself into trouble.

_Four._

Her thoughts fell to Roy, who she knew would be watching her every move intently. She remembered the promise she had made him, and took a deep breath.

_Three._

She spun around, so that her back was to the Cornucopia. She traced a path through the trees in her mind.

_Two._

She readied her feet to run as fast as she could away from the imminent bloodbath.

_One._

The cannon that fired to signal the start of the Games was all Carla heard. As she stepped off the podium and began to sprint towards the trees, it was as though the world around her had melted away. The sound of feet pounding against the earth as the tributes ran in their own directions went unnoticed by Carla: her focus was so acutely set on the sight of Rob ahead of her, making a beeline for the trees. She knew he'd be heading for the mountains. Higher ground would give them an advantage and she was sure he knew that.

She continued her sprint, trying her hardest to close the gap between them. Rob was fast; a lot faster than her. Despite this, she wasn't worried. She knew that as soon as he hit the cover of the trees, he would pause to wait for her. They were a team, after all.

However, as she ran, a flicker of doubt crossed Carla's mind. The whole reason she was here was to protect Rob, but, as she watched him sprint ahead, it was clear that he was both faster and stronger than her. What if all she'd done by volunteering for the Games was give him a burden to carry? Waiting for her at the edge of the trees would be a dangerous move; one she knew he'd feel obliged to take. Her breathing faltered as she realised that perhaps he would have been better off without her there; would have stood more of a chance without her holding him back. As the doubt crept further in, her pace began to slow.

The force against her back was enough to knock the air out of her and she hit the ground face first. She tried to lift her head to call out to Rob, but the weight on top of her made it impossible to produce any sound. She watched as he continued towards the trees, unaware of what was going on behind him. She tried her best to scream, but nothing came out. _This is it,_ she thought, _this is where I die._

She managed to turn her head so that her cheek was pressed into the ground, catching a glimpse of her attacker through the corner her eye. It was a boy her age; bigger than her, but not huge, with brown hair and pale skin. Her eyes trailed along his lifted arm and towards the club he held tightly in his hand. She knew he would bring it down into her skull at any second. If she could just find the strength to push herself up, she would be able to get away. She tried her best, but her arms were pinned beneath her at such an angle that made pushing up from them impossible. She closed her eyes tightly, accepting defeat and awaiting the blow. If he didn't do it soon, she'd surely die from asphyxiation through the weight of him on top of her small frame anyway. At least this way it would be quick.

She knew Rob would be fine without her. She was stupid to think that her being there would make any difference. Now, at least, she wouldn't have to worry about holding him back; of being a burden that he would have to look out for. This was the best way.

Just as she was sure he would finish her off, she found herself able to choke in a deep breath. She rolled over onto her back, now completely free of the boy's weight, only to catch sight of another tribute wrestling him to the ground. _Peter_.

The whole event had happened so quickly that she froze where she was. What the hell was he doing?

The boy's weapon had flown out of his hand and landed several metres away from them. The two of them were now fighting hand to hand, rolling on the floor and taking turns to strike each other with clenched fists. Carla watched, mesmerised, her whole body frozen to the spot.

"Run!" She heard a male voice shout, and it took her a few moments to realise that it was Peter.

She quickly regained her senses and scrambled to her feet. Disorientated, she spun around, circling on the spot several times before finally noticing Rob sprinting into the line of the trees. She took off in his direction, without so much as a backwards glance at the melee taking place behind her. The feeling of the air burning in her lungs spurred her forwards, desperate to reach the safety of the trees. Adrenaline coursed through her, each foot falling against the ground carrying her further away from the carnage of the Cornucopia.

As she reached the trees, she paused, glancing around for her brother. She spotted him crouched in the foliage, catching his breath from the exertion. He stood up as he laid eyes on her.

"What happened to you?" He asked, confused at what had taken her so long to catch up with him. Carla shook her head, bent over and struggling to breathe. Her limbs were burning and her head pounding. She knew she couldn't tell him. It would put him on edge, make him worry about her for the rest of the Games. Or worse still, make him run back into the chaos, seeking revenge. It would be easier to pretend it didn't happen. For him, anyway.

"Nothing." She choked out, returning to an upright position. Rob raised an eyebrow. "Come on," Carla continued, "let's get out of here." She started off into the woodland, Rob hot on her trail.

As she walked, she struggled to shake off the adrenaline coursing through her as a result of the attack. The whole thing seemed like a blur: like it had happened to someone else. The only thing she could be sure about was that Peter had saved her life. Why he'd done it, she couldn't work out. It would be one thing spare an easy target, preventing their imminent death; but to actively intervene the way he had done, putting his own life at risk to save hers, made absolutely no sense to her.

The one thing she was sure of was that she owed him. Big time. It didn't really matter why he'd done it. There was no question: if he hadn't then she wouldn't have survived.

But why her? There were so many other tributes in the same situation. What made him choose her? She thought back to her previous interactions with him, desperate to make sense of his behaviour. She remembered him being arrogant: flirting and teasing her, hoping for a reaction. Carla's blood began to boil as she remembered the exact details of their conversation.

_"I think you're gonna need a strong man to look after you if you wanna stand a chance of making it past the first day."_

What if this was all part of some big mind game he was trying to play? She instantly felt the rage building at the pit of her stomach. How could she have been so stupid? She'd played right into his hands and was now indebted to him for the rest of the Games. Not only that, but she let herself appear weak in front of him; something she definitely had not wanted to do. She took a deep breath, trying to rationalise everything that was going on in her head. All that really mattered was that she and Rob were alive. She may never even see Peter again. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Carla and Rob continued to wander silently; listening carefully for any signs of a pursuer. The fallen leaves and needles from the trees cushioned the sound of footsteps, making this more difficult than they'd hoped. Despite the cover the trees had provided them with, Carla felt exposed. Neither of them carried any weapons. If someone were to jump them now, catch them by surprise, it could be enough to finish them off; even with it being two against one.

Carla felt Rob's hand clasp her wrist, stopping her from moving on any further. The movement took her by surprise at first, causing her to startle. She spun around and Rob pressed a finger to his lips.

"Do you hear that?" He whispered, after a few moments. Carla remained still and, sure enough, the sound of rustling leaves caught her attention. She shot Rob a look, sudden panic beginning to rise within her. Should they run, or remain where they were, hoping that whatever, or whoever, it was would pass them by? Before she had a chance to raise the question, the rustling grew louder.

Carla jumped as, through the bush ahead of her, a large bird swooped into view. She let out an audible sigh of relief as it soared over her head, seeking refuge in one of the taller trees. Rob stifled a laugh, sharing her relief.

"What should we do now?" Carla asked once they'd recovered from the shock.

"We need to find water." Rob stated, recalling Roy's advice. Carla nodded, impressed that he had actually paid attention to anything Roy had said. Noticing for the first time the prickly feeling at the edge of her tongue alerting her to the fact that she would need to drink sometime soon, she agreed that this would be the best action to take, as opposed to simply wandering aimlessly away from the centre of the arena as they had previously been doing.

"Let's keep heading uphill." She suggested. "There's got to be a water source somewhere in the mountains."

They continued on through the trees, the ground beneath them now becoming scattered with rocks. The forest sloped upwards, getting darker as the trees grew closer together. Carla had no idea what time it was, or how long they'd been walking for, but she knew that it wouldn't be long until it would start to get dark. They desperately needed to find water and shelter before sunset if they were to stand any chance of surviving the night.

The pair kept a steady pace, weaving through trees and stumps, grateful that the leaves on the floor prevented leaving a trail in the dirt for anyone to follow. There was a soft breeze in the air which, paired with the cover of the trees, sent goose bumps up Carla's arms.

"How many are dead, do you think?" Rob asked, quietly, as they manoeuvred past a fallen branch. Carla thought for a few moments, her mind replaying the image of Peter wrestling her attacker to the ground. Had he survived? As far as she could tell, he was weaponless. Perhaps he'd retrieved the club that the boy who'd attacked her had dropped. Or maybe the boy had overpowered him, finishing him off like he almost had her. She shook off the uneasy feeling, pushing the thought out of her mind.

"No idea…" She shrugged. It was likely that up to half of the field would be dead by now. The first bloodbath always caused the most fatalities. With so many people fighting over weapons and equipment in such close proximity, it was pretty much a guarantee. So many deaths would occur during this initial fight that it was almost impossible each year for the Gamemakers to keep track of who was still alive. For this reason, they would hold off firing the cannons that signalled each tribute's death until the bloodbath had come to an end and the bodies were able to be collected.

"They must still be fighting at the Cornucopia, or we'd have heard the cannons by now." Carla pointed out, as the realisation dawned.

It must have been a drawn-out, violent battle for it to have lasted so long. Carla wondered who would be there. She was almost certain that Leanne and the other Careers would have made it. They were probably picking each tribute off one by one, dragging it out to increase their screen time. It was common knowledge that the most gruesome and torturous deaths were favoured by the public; drawing in the most views. Views equalled sponsors, which were essential for survival in the arena, and by dragging out the fight at the Cornucopia they'd certainly get them. Gifts from sponsors could be anything; from bottles of water to antibiotics; and the Careers knew this. _Not that they'd have anything to worry about_, Carla thought. She was certain that they'd have their pick of the spoils at the centre of the arena.

The ground beneath Carla and Rob was a lot steeper now, and the trees had become sparse once more. They had reached the mountains and were beginning their ascent.

The boom of a cannon rumbled through the arena, causing Carla to jump. Rob stopped in his tracks, turning to face her, one finger in the air. As each new cannon fired, he raised another. They continued this in silence until they were sure that the last cannon had rung out.

"That's ten." Carla stated.

"That doesn't seem many for a bloodbath that long…" Rob pointed out. Carla nodded, a concerned look across her face. She had been left with a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. For the bloodbath to last that long with only ten deaths meant that the other tributes must have put up one hell of a fight. The competition was tough.

"Come on, let's keep going. I'm parched." Carla said, pushing all thoughts of the Cornucopia to the back of her mind and focussing instead on the strength of her thirst.

"You're doing it again…" Rob stated, as Carla walked on ahead of him.

"What?" She said, turning back to face him.

"Using posh words." He laughed. "You definitely spent too much time with that Roy!"

"Be nice," Carla chastised, "or he might start holding back sponsors."

Rob snorted. "Like we're going to get any sponsors." He said, rolling his eyes.

"That is not the attitude to have. Now come on."

Carla continued up the path, trying her best to ignore Rob's defeatist attitude. At this point, sponsors would be their best hope of surviving, having left the Cornucopia with absolutely nothing. She knew it was a long shot, but she was hanging onto the hope that perhaps at least one person would like them enough to send them some help.

"Ouch!" Rob exclaimed loudly, causing Carla to spin round, her heart dropping to her stomach. She caught sight of Rob on the floor, rubbing his knee furiously.

"What happened?" Carla hissed, terrified that another tribute may be lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack. Rob grimaced, beckoning to the rock behind him.

"I slipped on the moss there." He admitted, still nursing his knee. Carla stifled a laugh, the relief that it was a simple accident washing over her.

"Oh dear…"

Rob shook his head, pulling himself up to his feet, turning around once more to investigate the area that had tripped him up.

"Wait…" Carla stopped him, coming to a sudden realisation. "Did you say moss?"

Rob nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Rob, you're a genius!" Carla exclaimed, practically clapping her hands in glee.

"Yeah, I already knew that." He replied, smugly. "Why though?"

"If there's moss growing on these rocks, there must be water around here somewhere, surely?" She pointed out, creeping closer to the offending patch of green fuzz on the ground. "Moss only grows where it's shady or damp..." She recalled, having been told this exact fact only days ago in training. "And there's not a lot of shade here, so..."

"Look, there's more over there." Rob stated, pointing to a patch to Carla's right.

"Okay, I think we should follow this up." Carla said, motioning to the jagged slope beside her, where the rocks jutted out steeply, creating a staircase-like path. Changing their course, she pushed herself up onto a ledge in the rocks before offering out a hand to pull Rob up after her. He hesitated, analysing the route ahead of them, before glancing back the way they were originally going to go.

"It would be much easier to just carry on the way we were going. The terrain is more even."

Carla raised an eyebrow, a slight smile creeping onto her face. "And who's using posh words now?"

Rob sighed, exasperated. "Like what?"

"Terrain!" Carla mimicked, receiving a light punch in the arm. "Look, Rob. No one gets anything in life by taking the easy route. If you want to die of dehydration then feel free to carry on down that route. I, for one, am thirsty." Carla continued forwards, up the much steeper slope of ground. Rob rolled his eyes, admitting defeat, and followed her.

They carried on helping each other over large rocks, scaling the steep mountain slope as quickly and carefully as they could. As they edged carefully across a ledge which led seemingly to the steep drop of a cliff edge into the forest below, Carla wondered if perhaps she'd led them on a wild goose chase.

"Carla, look!" Rob exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder at the ground below where she was stood.

About a metre down and hidden by the trees was a small cavern. The rocks of the mountain stood tall on either side, and there was just enough room for the two of them to manoeuvre through.

"I'm not sure, Rob." Carla confessed. "What if we jump down and it's a dead end and we get stuck there?" Rob shook his head, enthusiastically.

"No, Carla, look! The rocks are damp!" He pointed out. Carla glanced down, following his eyeline. Sure enough, they were dark grey in colour; a stark contrast to the dusty grey rocks they had previously been climbing. She allowed her eyes to follow the path of the damp, as it trailed upwards and snaked around the corner. At the very top, she noticed the smallest trickle of water.

"That's got to lead to a stream or something!" Rob said.

Carla nodded, making an executive decision in her mind. She carefully jumped down into the cavern, beckoning Rob to follow. As they followed the trail, weaving through the mountain, the cavern became shallower: the stone walls feeling less encasing and foreboding. The ground here was smooth and easy-going on their aching legs. What's more, the trickle of water was getting stronger.

"We should just keep following it until we can't go any further. Hopefully we'll reach the source. The water should be cleaner there." Carla said, as they continued to trek upwards.

By now, the cavern had levelled up with the rest of the mountain. The altitude was too high for new trees to grow, but the leaves and branches of the ones below provided sufficient cover. The dribble of water had become more of a stream; the liquid clear and cool.

"Look, over there!" Carla pointed out. The stream snaked between a gap in the rock face of the mountain. The pair followed, passing between the rocks and emerging in a more open space. Here, the water had pooled, and Carla spotted the source, where it bubbled out from the rocks. She circled the edge of the pool, before cupping her hands in the water and taking a drink. The liquid was refreshing against her dry tongue, quenching her thirst. Rob followed her lead, copying her movements.

"If we can find shelter around here, we're set." Carla said, confidently.

"I didn't see anywhere on the way up. It's pretty open up here, we might be better off down in the woods."

"The height gives us an advantage. We're more at risk down on the ground…"

"Either way, we need to find somewhere fast. Won't be long before the sun goes down. It's already getting colder. We should collect some of this water, enough to tide us over, and then find somewhere." Rob suggested.

"What are we going to put the water in, Rob?" Carla pointed out. Rob sighed.

"Ah. I didn't think of that."

"No, neither did I… We'll have to just drink as much as we can now and then find somewhere as close as possible for the night."

Rob nodded his agreement, before cupping his hands in the water once more.

The sound of footsteps against rock caused the pair to freeze where they were. Was it someone passing, or following the stream like they had? Carla couldn't be sure. She wasn't about to find out. Grabbing Rob's arm, she beckoned him to follow her, hoping there would be a way out behind them. Unfortunately, the rock face behind them was solid, with no hidden paths or entrances. They were trapped.

The footsteps were getting louder now, a certain sign that whoever it was was following the stream and would approach any second.

"What do we do?" Rob mouthed, a horrified expression on his face. It sounded like just one person, but Carla wasn't prepared to take them on bare handed. She pulled on Rob's arm once more, spotting a space just big enough for the two of them to hide in behind one of the rocks. Just as she ducked down behind it, she caught a glimpse of the owner of the footsteps. Peering as much as she dared around the rock, Carla took in the sight of a girl, small in size, with brown hair. She had set down a rucksack beside the pool and was now crouching beside it, filling up a two-litre bottle with water from the natural spring. As she stood up, Carla realised that it was Michelle.

Without thinking, Carla crawled out from behind the rock, only to be yanked backwards by Rob.

"Are you mad?" He hissed, as loudly as he dared. Carla peered out again, as Michelle stood up from her rucksack, a confused expression on her face. Carla hadn't been spotted. Michelle reached down into her rucksack once more, and pulled out a knife. Carla silently celebrated this, knowing that Michelle must have successfully retrieved what she needed from the bloodbath and escaped in one piece. She watched as Michelle circled on the spot, clearly suspicious of her surroundings.

"Hello?" she called, timidly. "Is there someone there?"

Her eyes fell upon the rock Carla and Rob were crouched behind, and Carla sensed that if she didn't act first, then Michelle would. Ignoring Rob's protests, she jumped up from her hiding place with her hands in the air.

"Michelle, don't freak out. We're not armed." Carla said, as calmly as she dared, stepping out from behind the rock. Rob followed her, a confused and somewhat horrified expression on his face.

"Yes, but she is, Carla!" He pointed out.

Michelle slowly lowered her knife, an amused grin on her face.

"You made it, then?" She grinned, as if the whole situation was incredibly entertaining to her.

"Only just…" Carla said. "You're on your own?"

Michelle nodded.

"Do you want to be?"

Michelle cocked her head, considering Carla's question. Carla felt Rob's hand on her arm, pulling her back behind the rock.

"Just excuse us for a second, please." He called out to Michelle, pulling Carla back down into their hiding place.

"Ow." She said, pointedly.

"Are you out of your tiny mind?" He hissed. "She could kill you instantly! I saw her throwing those knives in training! She's deadly!"

"Exactly." Carla stated, smirking.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's deadly. She never misses a target, she knows more than is normal about all of the other tributes and she's got supplies. Are you telling me you'd prefer her to go off alone as one of our enemies as opposed to joining our side?" Carla argued. Rob thought for a moment. Before he had the chance to respond, Carla stood up again.

"So, what do you say? If those Careers can make a team, I don't see why we shouldn't be able to."

Michelle smiled, still wildly amused by the behaviour of the siblings. "Okay, why not?" She agreed. Rob stepped closer to her.

"Any trouble, and I will kill you." He said, as menacingly as he could muster. Michelle smiled again.

"Whatever you say, Rob…" She patronised, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Rob shot Carla a furious look. She shrugged, trying her best to stifle her giggles.

"How do you know my name?"

"Have you two found anywhere to set up camp yet?" Michelle asked, ignoring Rob and directing her question to Carla. She shook her head. "Well, it's a good job we stumbled upon each other then, because I have the perfect place."

* * *

"This is it." Michelle stated, as they reached a clearing on the mountain's edge. She was right: it was the perfect place. It was directly level with the tops of the trees, which provided them with sufficient cover from those below, but also the advantage of being able to see out across the arena. Carla could see the Cornucopia in the distance; a tiny speck in the expanse of the mountains and woodland.

Behind the clearing was a cave set into the rock face, big enough for them all to fit inside to escape the wind. The path down the mountain from here wasn't too steep and led into thick woodland; perfect for hunting for something to eat.

Michelle set her rucksack down on the ground before sitting down beside it.

"Any idea what's in there?" Carla asked, sitting down next to her. Michelle shrugged.

"Haven't had chance to look properly yet. I just grabbed what I could and legged it. Didn't stop until I reached the stream." She explained, unzipping the bag and emptying its contents. There wasn't a lot, but it was certainly better than nothing. There was the water bottle she had filled at the stream, the collection of knives that Carla had spotted at the Cornucopia, a box of matches, a blanket, some string and some dried crackers.

"Not bad…" Carla said.

"We'll all be fighting over that blanket come tonight." Rob stated, zipping up his jacket against the notable chill in the air.

"Could always share…" Michelle winked, sending Carla into a fit of laughter. Rob screwed up his nose, turning his back on the two girls, instead allowing his eyes to focus on the orange haze being cast across the sky as the sun began to set on the opposite side of the arena.

"There's not much daylight left. Do we wanna light a fire?" He asked.

"We've got the matches." Michelle pointed out, nodding.

"I don't know. What if someone sees the smoke? It would lead them straight to us, surely?" Carla questioned. Michelle shrugged.

"I think we'll be okay. If they're far enough away to see it above the trees then it will take them a long time to get up here. Probably wouldn't be worth it."

"Well, if you're sure. Me and Rob will go and get some wood."

"Okay, great." Michelle smiled.

Carla stood up and started down the mountain into the woods, Rob sticking close behind.

"I still don't think this is a good idea." He whispered, as they began retrieving firewood.

"We haven't got a lot of choice, Rob." Carla pointed out. "Look, if she hadn't come with us, we'd have probably still been out on the mountain now. At least we've got shelter, and water and weapons, should we need them."

"Okay, fine. But if you wake up with a knife through your skull don't say I didn't warn you." He huffed.

"Your optimism is inspiring, Rob, really." Carla replied, dryly, setting off back up the mountain.

"I don't suppose you found any food on your travels, did you?" Michelle asked, as Carla and Rob returned with the wood for the campfire. Carla shook her head, as she began arranging the sticks on the ground.

"Ah, never mind. We can just share these crackers tonight and go out again in the morning to see if we can find anything." Michelle suggested. Carla frowned.

"Are you sure you want to share them? They are yours."

"Carla!" Rob scolded, his stomach growling. Michelle laughed.

"It's fine. What's mine is yours. If we're going to be a team, we have to act like one."

Carla struck a match, dropping it into the fire and watching as it caught alight. The flames rose gradually, casting flickering shadows across the ground. A trail of smoke danced gently through the air, putting Carla on edge, despite Michelle's earlier reassurances. They sat around the fire in relative silence, each tucking into their small supper of crackers.

"So, you went into the bloodbath, then?" Rob spoke first, directing his question to Michelle, his eyes scrutinising. She nodded.

"Yep. Not for long though. I was in and out." Michelle answered.

"What was it like?" Carla asked, quietly. She'd had a taste of the dangers when she'd been attacked, and that was only on the outskirts. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like in the thick of it.

"Terrifying." Michelle confessed. "I've never been so scared in my life. You watch the Games every year and think about what you'd do in that situation. How brave you'd be, how many people you'd fight off. But when it comes to it, it's all just a blur."

"Did you kill anyone?" Rob pushed. Carla shot him a glance. Michelle shrugged.

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "Like I said, it was all a blur. I remember throwing a knife, but I don't know if I hit anything."

The sound of the Capitol's anthem rung out through the arena, making the trio jump. They instantly looked to the sky, anticipating the projections that would show them who had fallen on the first day. As the sky lit up with a projection of the first face, alongside their district number, Michelle let out a breath.

"District 3, that's Sophie… And Daniel too." She said, as the first face switched to the second.

"That must mean all of the Careers made it." Carla stated. Michelle nodded.

"District 4. Adam."

"So, the girl survived?" Rob asked. Carla nodded this time.

"District 5, I think that's Bethany. And that's Kirk. Not surprising in the slightest. District 6, Sinead. Again, no surprises there. District 8, that's Imran. I thought he'd get further to be honest."

"How is she doing that?" Rob asked Carla, bewildered. Carla shrugged in response, a smug grin on her face.

"No idea."

"District 9, Abi and Chesney. District…" She trailed off, allowing her eyes to close and letting out a breath. Carla diverted her gaze back to the sky, gasping as she saw the face projected there.

It was him. It was the boy who'd attacked her.

"District 11. Steve." Michelle finished, more quietly this time.

"He was from your district?" Rob asked, carefully. He glanced between Carla and Michelle for confirmation of his assumptions. Michelle nodded.

"Yeah…" She sighed.

"The one who wanted nothing to do with you?" Carla asked, pushing down the guilt rising inside her.

"I don't know, I was hoping he'd change his mind once we got in here. Looks like he won't have the chance now." She said, sighing sadly. "I don't even know why I'm upset. We went our separate ways a long time ago."

"But you used to be friends?" Carla asked, gently. Michelle let out a laugh.

"He was my first boyfriend. We were fourteen and the centre of each other's worlds." She laughed. "Well, he was the centre of mine. I came second to some slag called Becky."

"Oh…"

"He broke my heart that day. I always thought that maybe one day we'd be able to talk things through, get back to how things were before we started seeing each other. I guess we'll never get the chance now."

"Sounds like a right pillock to me…" Rob huffed. Carla shot him a glare.

"It's okay to be upset." Carla said, wrapping an arm hesitantly around the girl's shoulders. "You grew up together. It's bound to have some effect."

"Yeah, I guess…" Michelle replied, rubbing her eyes.

"Um… How do you do that… thing? With the tributes?" Rob asked. Michelle gave a wry smile.

"By paying a lot of attention. Knowledge is power, Rob. The more you know about the other tributes, the easier it is to find their weaknesses."

"Right…"

"Who's left then? Maybe between us we can come up with a strategy." Carla suggested.

"Okay, we know about the Careers. My guess is that they'll have set up camp around the Cornucopia."

"Let's just stay away from them for as long as possible." Carla said. Rob nodded his agreement.

"Okay next is…" Michelle thought for a moment, working through each district in her head. "Alya, District 4. Young looking, dark hair." Carla tried to picture her, wondering if maybe she was the girl she'd spotted across the Cornucopia. She hoped so: it was nice to think that the terrified girl she'd laid eyes on had managed to survive the first day.

"Then there's David from District 6. He's quite small but he looks strong. He did well in training. Then there's Sarah, tiny blonde thing from District 7. And then there's Peter, the cocky one. District 8 is Shona. I reckon she's tougher than she looks. Then Seb from District 10. How many is that?"

"Including us three, it's 13." Rob said. "One more."

"Oh! Toyah! District 10 too. I'm surprised she's still alive to be honest."

"And I'm surprised you lot are still alive with that smoke. Anyone could find you up here."

The trio shot round, jumping to their feet at the unfamiliar voice; Michelle and Rob both clutching knives they had scooped up, pointing them aggressively towards their visitor.

"Woah, steady on!" He said, arms up in mock surrender. "Look, I'm not armed."

"Don't come any closer!" Michelle demanded, thrusting her knife forwards.

"Okay, okay! Quite the little pack you've got here." He smirked; eyes focussed on Michelle.

"See, I told you he was cocky."

"Peter…" Carla breathed, catching his attention. His lips turned up at the corners. "How did you find us?"

Peter shrugged. "Just happened to stumble across you. Nice to see you made it out alive…" He added, cocking his head to the side.

He was definitely after something. Maybe he wanted her to grovel; thank him for saving her life. She wasn't prepared to do that here; not in front of Rob and Michelle, anyway. No, her struggle at the Cornucopia was something she wanted to keep to herself.

"What do you want?" Rob demanded, taking a step towards him.

"Oh, nothing from you." He replied, shortly, his eyes still firmly fixed on Carla. "Although, this is a nice little set up you've got going on here. Room for a little one?"

"Not a chance." Michelle stated.

"Yeah, now run along, or-"

"Or what? You're gonna kill me? Go on then. I'd like to see you try." Peter challenged, squaring up to Rob.

Before Carla could blink, a knife hurtled through the air, narrowly missing Peter's head and lodging itself between the rocks behind him. For just a second his eyes widened, before he regained composure.

"Do you wanna test me again?" Michelle pushed, taking a step towards him. "Because next time I won't miss."

"Maybe we should all just calm down…" Carla suggested, taking Michelle by the arm and pulling her back, preventing her from squaring up to Peter any longer.

"Listen, I'm not here for a fight. If yous watch my back, I'll watch yours. It's as simple as that." Peter said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Carla sighed.

"It might not be the worst idea." She said. In her eyes, the more people on they had on their team, the better. She knew they'd be stronger together, provided everyone showed they could be trusted.

"You've well and truly lost it, haven't you?" Rob exclaimed, shaking his head.

"If we let him go now and he ends up teaming up with someone else, what's to say he wouldn't lead them straight up here?" Carla defended.

"Who said anything about letting him go?" Rob argued, gesturing to the knife he was holding. Carla rolled her eyes.

"What's in it for us?" Michelle asked Peter, ignoring the quarrelling siblings.

"I'm a good hunter and a good fighter. I won't let you go hungry. I'm not being funny, but you don't exactly look overrun with food."

"Neither do you." Rob shot back.

"How do we know you won't try to kill us in our sleep?" Michelle interrogated.

"How do you know they won't kill you in your sleep? Or vice versa?" Peter returned, gesturing between the group.

He had a fair point. There was something about Peter being there that made Carla feel slightly more relaxed. The way he'd saved her at the Cornucopia had been totally unexpected, whether it was to prove a point or not, and as much as she hated herself for it, she felt as though she at least owed him something.

"To tell you the truth, all I want is to get rid of those Careers. I can't do that alone. So, either we team up and you help me, or we go it alone and let them pick us off one by one. Your choice."

The trio were silent for a few moments, each battling their own moral dilemmas. Carla was the first to speak.

"I say we give him a chance. I'm prepared to trust him for now, but if he does anything to break that, then he goes." She addressed the group, side eyeing Peter the whole time.

Michelle let out a breath. "Okay. But I don't want him anywhere near those knives."

All eyes turned to Rob. He shrugged.

"Looks like I'm outvoted anyway. First sign of trouble and he's a goner." He warned, eyeing Peter cautiously.

"I'll be good as gold, I promise." He said.

"You better." Carla replied. "Don't let us regret this."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Carla sat alone in the chill of the morning breeze, prodding at the ash from last night's campfire with a stray stick. The arena was quiet, save for the distant birdsong, and strangely calm: a sharp contrast to the atmosphere of the day before. If she closed her eyes, it felt as though she was back in the meadow of District 12: back in the old life she felt so far removed from now.

The sound of footsteps shuffling across the ground drove her to open her eyes, suddenly aware once more of the dangers of their environment. She felt the relief wash over her as Rob settled down beside her, his eyes cast out over the arena below.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, quietly.

Carla shrugged. "I didn't."

All night, the events of the previous day had played through Carla's mind. She'd replayed Steve's attack on her over and over, wondering if there was anything she could have done differently. She felt humiliated by the fact that Peter had had to save her. What's more, she was overwhelmed by the idea that she now owed him something. Whilst letting him stay with the group was minor compensation, it felt nowhere near sufficient enough to clear that debt. She cursed herself for allowing him to get under her skin.

"I'm starving. I could murder one of them bacon butties they gave us before training." Rob thought aloud, practically drooling as he pictured it in his mind. Carla nodded in agreement, her stomach growling ravenously.

"Morning." Michelle's voice rang out groggily through the clearing. Carla turned, offering her a smile as she emerged from the cave in the cliff face, clutching a knife tightly, as she had been all night.

"You're really not taking any risks, are you?" Carla laughed as Michelle sat down beside her. Michelle's face remained serious.

"Not while he's around, no." She said, beckoning with her head to where Peter was presumably still asleep inside the cave. Carla envied the way he'd been able to drift off almost immediately and stay unconscious for the entire night. She knew that sleep was something they desperately needed and hoped that she would be able to get more of it throughout her time in the arena.

"I bet they eat like that every day in the Capitol. Fat pigs, the lot of them!" Rob said, his mind still clearly on the luxurious breakfasts he'd consumed a few days prior. Carla let out a groan.

"Rob, please! It's like torture!" She whined.

"Yeah, and you won't be getting any sponsors if you keep talking like that!" Michelle scolded. Rob rolled his eyes. The idea of keeping the audience sweet wasn't one that really appealed to him. He'd always been one to say what he thought and he wasn't about to change now; not for the sake of a few lousy gifts.

"What are we going to do about sleeping beauty then?" Rob asked, changing the subject. Carla shrugged.

"Nothing as yet." She replied.

"We could just pack up and go now. Leave him here." Rob suggested.

"No, we've got a good set up. We don't know how long it'll take to find somewhere else." Michelle said, shaking her head. "We'll just have to put up with him for the time being."

"Are you talking about me?" A muffled voice called from within the cave. Michelle rolled her eyes. Carla turned and watched as Peter emerged, hair tousled from a night of sleeping out in the wild.

"Would we ever?" Michelle smiled sweetly, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Listen, I thought we were gonna try and make this work. But if you lot want me gone, then just say." Peter shrugged.

"No, it's fine, Peter. Honestly." Carla said, already fed up of the constant bickering. She turned back to the other two as Peter joined them around the ashes of the fire. "We're going to need food soon. More firewood and more water. We need to work out how we're going to play this."

"I say we all go together," Peter suggested. "We'll be stronger as a group, should anything happen."

"I don't know. If we stay as close to camp as possible, then there's no need for us all to go. Besides, someone needs to guard up here." Michelle pointed out.

"I don't think anyone should be left on their own." Carla said. "We'll have to work it out so we can go off in pairs."

"I'm not going anywhere with him." Rob said, casting an accusatory glare at Peter, who simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Me neither." Michelle agreed.

"Okay then, I will." Carla sighed. Rob put a hand on her arm, drawing her full attention. "What?"

"Can I have a word?" He asked, beckoning towards the cave behind them. Carla nodded, narrowing her eyes.

"Bear with us…" She said, following Rob through the gap in the rock face. "What's the matter?" She whispered, once they were out of earshot.

"Carla, this is a really bad idea."

"Sit on the fence, why don't you…" She muttered.

"I don't want to be alone with him, and I certainly don't want you being alone with him."

"Rob-"

"Look, I barely feel comfortable with that Michelle around, but at least she's proved herself useful. Peter could be a total liability!"

"But he might not be." She sighed.

"How do we know we can trust them?"

"We don't. It's a risk we're going to have to take. We have the advantage here. There's two of us. I can't see those two teaming up anytime soon, can you?" She pointed out, gesturing with her thumb towards the mouth of the cave.

"I don't know, Car. It all just seems too risky. Let's just cut our losses and ditch him now."

"Rob, Peter is not going to turn on us. Please, if you can't trust him, at least trust me on that."

"But you don't know that. Not for sure."

Carla sighed. She understood Rob's hesitation. After all, as far as he was concerned, Peter was a loose cannon. Nothing he'd done so far could prove he was one to be trusted. Nothing Rob had witnessed, anyway.

"No," She agreed, "But I've got a pretty good idea."

Rob narrowed his eyes, anticipating an explanation. When Carla remained silent, he shrugged. "Well?"

"Listen, Rob. If he wanted any of us dead, he'd have done it by now. He had the perfect opportunity and he didn't take it-"

"You what?"

Carla sighed. She knew it would come out eventually. It was best to get it over with and get it out in the open now.

"At the Cornucopia, Peter… Well, he could have killed me. Or at least left me for dead. But he didn't."

"What? How?"

"I was attacked. There was someone on top of me. He was just about to finish me off when Peter pulled him away. I just froze where I was: I didn't know what to do. The he screamed at me to run. So, I did."

Rob sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?"

"I didn't want you to worry… And I didn't want you thinking I was gonna be a burden…" She admitted, quietly.

"As if." Rob assured her, before sighing. "Well, if you're so sure we can trust him, then he can stay."

"And you're sure you're okay with this?" Carla checked. It wasn't like Rob to drop his barriers so quickly.

"Not entirely, no. But what choice do we have? We'll just have to tell Michelle, so she understands the decision." He spun around, ready to exit the cave, before Carla grabbed his arm.

"No, we can't tell Michelle." She whispered, quickly.

"Why not?"

Carla took a deep breath. "It was Steve that attacked me." She stated.

Rob took a moment to take in the information. He glanced out of the cave towards where Peter and Michelle sat, at a distance from each other that they deemed safe, before turning back to Carla.

"And you reckon he killed him?"

Carla shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'd like to think not, but there's a chance."

"Right…" Rob replied, trying his best to take it all in.

"Listen, Rob. It was me or Steve. Peter has clearly shown where his loyalties lie."

"And what do you think Michelle will make of that?" Rob pointed out, his eyes narrowing.

"We can't tell her, Rob. She'll freak out."

Rob sighed. He was beginning to think that perhaps he and Carla would have been better off alone. Nothing about Peter being around them felt right: there was something about him that Rob didn't trust. However, he knew Carla wasn't about to let this go.

"Okay, I'll keep it to myself. As long as you promise me that you'll be careful. And at the first sign of trouble, he's out of here."

"Deal." Carla agreed, nodding firmly.

The pair re-emerged from the cave, their faces blank, not giving away any part of their conversation. As they approached the pair sat outside, Carla spoke.

"Peter stays." She stated, firmly.

"Fine." Michelle stated, rubbing her forehead as if massaging away a headache.

"Right. Peter and I will head off to look for food and firewood. In the meantime, you two can sort things out up here: check it's safe, maybe wander over to the stream for some more water if you're happy to." She suggested. The group nodded in agreement.

Between them, they emptied the contents of Michelle's rucksack, deciding what each pair would need in order to complete their assigned tasks. Once everything had been organised, Carla stood up.

"Alright, then. See you all on the flip side."

"Carla?" Rob called out, as she began to wander away from the camp, Peter closely following behind. She turned; eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Stay safe."

* * *

Carla and Peter wandered silently through the woods, flinching at any sounds they heard. Despite not having seen a single other tribute since Peter had arrived at the camp, they were still on edge; the dangers of the arena playing on their minds constantly.

They were about ten minutes away from the camp before Peter spoke.

"Hey, look." He whispered, tapping her gently on the shoulder so as not to startle her. He pointed to the foliage ahead of them. "Berries."

"Are they edible?" Carla questioned, creeping towards the bush in order to get a closer look. The fruit looked juicy, bright red in colour, the surface shiny as the sun filtered through the trees and bounced off it. The whole bush was laden with them.

"Pretty sure." Peter nodded. Carla raised an eyebrow. She knew berries could be highly dangerous and wasn't happy about taking the risk without being one hundred percent certain.

Peter crept closer to the bush, before plucking a berry from the branch. He rolled it over between his fingers, inspecting it closely

"They're red chokeberries." He confirmed.

"Definitely?" Carla questioned.

With a shrug, he tossed the fruit into his mouth, taking Carla by surprise. Her breath hitched momentarily in her throat as she watched him chewing. She let it out once he'd swallowed and given her a thumbs up.

"Definitely." He smiled, turning back to the bush to harvest some more. Carla scowled at him.

"Do you have to keep doing that?" She questioned, an accusatory tone in her voice.

"Doing what?" He asked, his back still to her. She could hear the cheeky grin in his words.

"Doing stupid things. Putting yourself in danger."

He spun round, an amused expression on his face.

"Careful. You're making it sound like you care." He smirked.

"Well, sorry for maintaining some sense of humanity." She quipped, dryly. "You know, we don't all turn into hardened killing machines upon entering the arena. Some of us actually stay quite normal."

Carla noticed Peter's expression falter slightly at her words, but almost as quickly as it had changed, he recovered it.

"If you insist…" He chuckled, turning back to the bush. "Pass me the bag."

Carla allowed Michelle's empty backpack fall from her shoulders, catching it by one strap and offering it to Peter. She watched as he harvested the fruit, shoving handfuls into the bag, before zipping it up and turning to her once more.

"Have you got that string?" He asked. Carla nodded, gesturing to where it was looped safely around her belt. "Good. Know how to make a snare trap?"

Carla shook her head. As much as she'd tried to pay attention during training, she just couldn't seem to get her head around the intricacies of the task.

"Wanna learn?" He asked, his tone more eager than he'd intended, Carla suspected. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch up; a small smile gracing her lips.

"Go on then." She agreed.

"Right, first things first we need the string-"

"Check." Carla interrupted, holding out the neat loop she'd wound it into after unlacing it from her belt.

"And a branch that looks like it's got some give to it." He finished, glancing around at the trees surrounding them.

"So, a bendy branch?" Carla clarified, following his lead and glancing around the area. He nodded, his lips in a tight line. "Like that one?" She asked, pointing to a smaller tree; nowhere near fully grown, with long, thin branches that looked as though they could be bent some way without snapping. A smile tugged at Peter's lips.

"Perfect." He said. Carla followed him towards the tree, where he crouched down at the base of its trunk. Searching the ground for suitable sticks, he pulled out the knife Michelle had reluctantly given him. Carla watched intently as he found a suitable stick and began carving into it, explaining in as much detail as he could what he was doing. She nodded along, trying to retain the details, as he attached the string to each section of the trap, before standing back and admiring his handiwork.

"Right. Let's get out of here so we don't scare anything off." He said, starting off in a direction away from both the trap and their camp. Carla followed, her mind replaying the steps he'd taken to build the trap in the hopes that she'd be able to recreate them should she ever find herself alone.

The sound of a cannon booming through the arena made them both jump. They froze on the spot, glancing around for any signs of a threat.

"One more down…" Peter sighed. Carla cringed at his choice of words, the cannon bringing home the dangers of their environment. Death could happen so quickly; so unexpectedly here. What would she do if it were Rob? She tried to push the thought to the back of her mind. He was safe with Michelle. Once Peter was sure the coast was clear, they slowly began walking again.

"Where did you learn to do that, then?" Carla asked nonchalantly as they walked, referring to the snare trap they had set up. She had wanted to change the subject, but was also genuinely intrigued to know the answer. Peter hadn't struck her as the sort of person to have had decent survival skills, and yet it appeared that he knew much more than she'd expected.

He shrugged, his focus set forwards, seeking out anything else that resembled food. "My dad taught me." He briefly explained.

"Oh?" Carla didn't want to push the conversation, but hoped he'd expand on his answer of his own accord. There was something about Peter that she found deeply intriguing. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she hoped him opening up about his life before the arena would give her some sort of idea.

"We were pretty close. Did quite a lot of stuff together. You know; fishing, hiking, camping; that sort of stuff. He loves the outdoors." Peter paused. He stopped walking, glancing around to ensure they were safe. "That's what he said anyway. Deep down I think we both knew he just wanted to prepare me for the Games. Just in case."

"Well, at least it's paying off now…" Carla said, absentmindedly. She wondered what it must be like to have a parent that cared; that wanted to spend time with her; that would teach her important lessons and prepare her for situations she'd have to deal with in life.

"He lost his cousin in the Games. They were really close. I guess he didn't want a repeat of that. She didn't make it past the first day. Got attacked at the Cornucopia, apparently…"

Carla's ears pricked up; her attention drawn to Peter once more.

"He didn't speak about it very often. He could never watch the first bloodbath after that though. Flat out refused to even be in the house when it was on. One year he told me about it. Said the cameras focused in on her, before panning out and showing everyone just running past her. He couldn't believe that no one would even try to help." Peter shook his head, the memory of that conversation coursing through his mind. He picked at a leaf on the bush beside him, allowing the brittle, green substance to break apart between his fingers.

"That's why you stopped to save me, isn't it?" Carla asked, quietly. She watched him intently as he shrugged.

"I knew he wouldn't be watching. I just… I had to prove to him that no matter what he thought, the Games wouldn't change me. And I had to prove it to myself."

"Why me?" She whispered.

"You were just there." He replied, unable to look her in the eyes. Carla sighed, shaking her head, and took a step closer to him. There was more to it than just that, and she knew it. After a few moments of silence, Peter gave in.

"I knew that saving you… Well, it wouldn't be a waste."

"What do you mean?"

"I just knew deep down that the Games wouldn't change you either. And I was right, wasn't I?" He smirked, his barriers quickly rebuilding themselves. "At least so far."

Carla smiled. "How can you be so sure of that? I might have been plotting to kill you this whole time." She teased, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"You wouldn't have the nerve." He scoffed, arrogantly. Carla rolled her eyes.

"It's a shame you don't want the Games to change you…" She mused. "They could have stopped you being such a arrogant pig."

"And where would the fun be in that?" He grinned. "Come on, we'd better crack on. See if we can find anything else that will give us a decent meal."

Carla watched as Peter started off further into the woods. She suddenly felt quite content. She no longer had to spend her time wondering what his ulterior motives for saving her were, now that she knew he didn't actually have any.

He didn't want the Games to change him. Surely, that meant leaving the arena without any blood on his hands. She felt the relief rush over her as she realised he must not have killed Steve. At least now Michelle and Rob wouldn't have any reason to want him gone now. She smiled to herself. She wasn't sure why, but she was starting to enjoy having him around. Something about him made her feel safe, which was a feeling she couldn't take for granted.

She set off after him, quickening her pace to catch him up, his words playing on her mind.

She was pleased he thought the Games wouldn't change her. She could only hope he would be right.

* * *

"Quite a lot of meat on that!" Peter stated enthusiastically once they'd returned to the trap a few hours later, holding up the rabbit they had caught. "Let's just hope Michelle's not a vegetarian."

Carla chuckled. "I highly doubt it. You've seen her with those knives."

"I don't think being handy with a knife can constitute to not being a vegetarian…" Peter argued, as Carla wound up the string from the disassembled trap and looped it once more around her belt.

"Well, maybe not," She agreed, "but I still don't reckon she is."

"What made you want to team up with her?" Peter asked, taking Carla by surprise. "Other than, you know, her being a whiz with a pack of knives."

"Erm… I don't know, really. I guess there was just a connection…"

"Is that why you were so happy to team up with me, too?" Peter pressed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Carla rolled her eyes.

"I was not happy to team up with you." She said, dryly.

"You're a terrible liar…" He smirked. "So come on, what was it? Was it my dapper looks? My enchanting personality?"

"Your unshakeable modesty?" Carla finished, sarcastically. She sighed. "No. I just knew we could trust you." She answered honestly.

The pair stayed silent for a moment, maintaining eye contact. Peter's eyes glistened in a way that Carla couldn't quite understand: he was almost impossible to read. She hoped her emotions were just a suitably hidden. Quickly, so as not to allow them to creep through, she averted her eyes to the ground.

"We should get back…" Peter mumbled, scuffing his foot into the dirt. He started up the steep path they had taken on the way down from their camp, leaving Carla stood by the tree behind him.

"Peter…" She called out, hesitantly. He turned around, a question set across his face. "Thank you." She finished, sincerely. He shrugged, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"It was nothing you wouldn't have done too." He said firmly, before starting back up the hill.

Carla followed him, pondering his words. She wasn't sure she would have done. For Rob perhaps, but probably not a stranger. Did that make her a bad person? Had the Games already started to change her? No, she assured herself. Her aim coming into them was to protect Rob at all costs, and nothing would be able to change that.

As they approached the camp, Carla could just about make out Rob's voice in the distance. She couldn't pick out any words, but his tone seemed heated. Carla glanced at Peter, her stomach tightening in knots.

"Do you think something's happened?" She asked, upon noting Peter's confused expression. She quickened her pace, eager to get back to the camp and find out what the problem was.

The closer they got, the more Carla was able to make out. She could hear Michelle's raised voice clearly and began to panic. What if her shouting drew someone towards the camp? What if someone had already found it? She broke into a run, Peter hot on her heels, until she reached the camp.

"What the hell's happened?" She asked breathlessly, once she had found Michelle and Rob alone outside the cave.

"Get him away from me!" Michelle screeched, pointing wildly in Peter's direction. He stopped where he was, clearly taken aback by her outburst.

"Woah, Chelle, what's happened?" Carla asked, taking hesitant steps towards her, noticing the knife clutched expertly in her hand.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know!" She replied, a tear sliding down her cheek. Carla glanced towards Rob, searching for an explanation. The look on his face was difficult to read. Was it fearful? Apologetic? Smug?

"Michelle, I don't know. You need to tell me."

Michelle forcefully wiped her tears away, before thrusting the knife in Peter's direction. Carla's breath hitched, knowing full well that if Michelle let go it would hit him square between the eyes.

"He killed Steve. It was him!" She spat, furiously. Carla turned to Rob as realisation set in; her eyes fixed angrily on him.

"We don't know that for sure." Carla stated, shaking her head.

"Why don't you ask him then?" Rob challenged, glaring right back at his sister. She felt sick to the stomach. She'd asked him to do one thing. One little thing. It wouldn't have been difficult to have kept it from Michelle, at least until Carla had been able to find out the ins and outs. But no, as always, Rob had to get his own way.

Carla turned defiantly towards Peter, crossing her arms. "Well?" She stated, her anger towards her brother being thrust onto him.

"Who's Steve?" He asked, genuinely confused. Carla softened.

"The boy who attacked me…"

Peter's eyes fell to the ground. Carla felt her stomach flip.

"Peter?"

He looked up once more, meeting her eyes.

"I'm sorry…"

"Get him out of here, before I finish him." Michelle spat.

Carla remained still, trying to process everything that was going on: Michelle's fury, Rob's betrayal, the way Peter's eyes were locked on hers.

"You wouldn't let it change you… That's what you said. You said the Games wouldn't change you." Carla recalled, her voice cracking with the hurt she felt.

"Carla, please…"

"You know, I don't know why I was so stupid. I just assumed you'd managed to get away and someone else had-"

"I tried; I really did. I promise you; it was a last resort." Peter hastened to explain. Carla shook her head, overwhelmed by his attempts to explain.

"How did it happen? What did you do?" Michelle demanded. Peter shook his head. "If you don't come up with a decent excuse, I will plant this knife right through the centre of your skull, do you understand me?" She hissed through gritted teeth.

"I underestimated his strength." Peter admitted. "I thought I could knock him out with a couple of punches. He overpowered me."

"I don't believe you." Michelle sniffed, standing her ground; knife poised and ready in her hand.

"He was a nutter." Peter defended, anger beginning to flare.

"He was an idiot. He was a stupid, harmless idiot that wouldn't have been able to fight off a dog, let alone someone of your size with a weapon!" Michelle argued.

"I didn't have a weapon." Peter confessed, "Carla can vouch for me." He glanced at her hopefully.

"He's telling the truth, Michelle. Steve attacked me. He was the one with the weapon. And he would have killed me if Peter hadn't of pulled him off."

"I just wanted to help Carla. I didn't mean for him to end up dead. Like I said, I was just going to knock him unconscious."

"So, what changed?" Michelle asked, her grip on the knife tightening.

"He fought back. He was strong. Like Carla said, he had a weapon. I saw him reach for it and I panicked…"

"I've heard enough." Michelle stated, abruptly. "I don't want to hear anymore."

"Kill me if you want." Peter shrugged, admitting defeat. "Carla's right. I didn't want the Games to change me, but it looks as though they already have. You may as well put me out of my misery."

"Oh, save the melodramatics for someone who cares." Rob stated, rolling his eyes.

"Shut your mouth, Rob." Carla snapped.

"I'm not going to kill you." Michelle hissed, approaching Peter and stopping inches from his face. "Because that would make me as bad as you. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Peter turned his attention to Carla and the hurt look on her face. For some reason, it made him angry.

"Carla?" He questioned, eager to hear her thoughts on the matter. She simply shrugged. He took a deep breath. "It's not my fault you assumed I didn't kill him. You believed what you wanted to. If you'd have asked, I'd have told you. So, I don't know why you've got that stroppy look on your face, acting all holier than thou. You knew deep down what I'd done, you just chose to ignore it!"

"Don't you dare lecture me, Peter! After everything you said earlier, why would I have thought any other way? Don't try pinning this on me, I'm not the one who killed him!"

Carla watched Peter's face fall and instantly felt bad. She knew deep down that he couldn't have meant to do it. But that didn't stop it hurting.

"Just go, Peter." Rob stated.

"Good riddance." Michelle added.

Carla remained silent. Peter sighed, dropping Michelle's bag on the floor.

"Bye then. Thanks for having me. Good luck." He said, solemnly, before wandering back down the hill.

"I'm going to bed." Michelle stated, heading towards the cave. Rob reached for her arm.

"Don't you want-"

"I'm not hungry." She said, shaking off Rob's grip.

Carla watched as she disappeared into the cave, before turning to Rob, shaking her head angrily.

"What the hell did you do that for?" She demanded, confused and hurt by him breaking his word.

"It was for the best, Carla." He stated, confidently.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted him gone? There was absolutely no need to go behind my back!"

"Oh, you wouldn't have listened! You were hung up on him the moment he arrived!"

"I was not 'hung up' on him!" Carla scoffed, offended. "This is not some little game, Rob. Now is absolutely not the time to be petty. Now is the time to behave like adults."

"Why? Because we might never get the chance to be one?" Rob pointed out. Carla stopped. "We couldn't trust him, Carla. He could have turned on us at any minute. We're better off without him."

"Well, I hope you're right, Rob. Because if he dies now, that's on our consciences for the rest of our lives!" Carla stated, raising her voice in frustration.

"Well maybe it's time you let go of your conscience, Carla!" Rob shouted, taking her by surprise. "No one wins the Games with a clear conscience! The sooner you get that into your head, the better."

"You're wrong." Carla stated, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. "Roy-"

"Oh, Roy got lucky!" Rob dismissed the idea. "If you want to come anywhere close to winning the Games-"

"I don't want to win the Games, Rob! There's no chance I'll even come close! I'd rather die knowing that I'm still me than turn into a monster!"

"There's no talking to you when you're like this…" Rob stated, irritated. "I'm going to bed too. We can talk about this tomorrow."

With that, he skulked off into the cave, leaving Carla alone with the setting sun.

She took a seat on the ground, casting her eyes out across the arena; tracing the shadows forming across the expanse as the sun dropped beyond the horizon. She couldn't help but think of Peter, wandering through the woods alone. She wondered how long he'd last. She was still furious with him for not telling her the whole truth. Then again, he was right. She'd never asked; she'd just assumed.

As she sat alone, contemplating the day's events, she suddenly remembered the fact that they were being filmed. It was easy to forget about the Capitol and the TV show when she was fearing for her life. But now, alone and relatively safe, it re-entered her mind. She had no doubts that the argument they'd just had would have been shown across every television set in the Capitol and Districts. She wondered what her mother would have made of it.

She'd always said she was too hopeful. Every year she'd tease her for the way she hoped her father, or the man she thought was her father, would walk back through the door. She'd probably be laughing now; at the way her daughter had been taken for a fool. Either that, or she'd be passed out somewhere, too intoxicated to function.

Carla wished she could have a drink now. She'd only tried it on several occasions, but now she longed for the sharp burn coursing down the back of her throat; the warmth that would settle in her stomach. Something to take the edge of the fear she had been unable to shake since she stood on the stage in the square of District 12.

She startled as the Capitol's anthem rung out, and focused her eyes on the sky.

The first face to appear was that of the young District 4 girl; the one she had seen trembling with fear at the Cornucopia the day before. Carla let out a breath, scrunching her eyes together tightly. She didn't want to see anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The sun shone brightly over the arena, drenching the forest in an orange glow. Despite this, the air on the mountain where the trio were camped had a bitter chill to it. The campfire had been lit; the flames dancing and flickering in the soft breeze. Carla sat beside it, alone, on lookout for anyone who may want to disturb the peace.

Two days had passed since their argument. Whilst things had mostly returned to normal; as normal as they could be in the Hunger Games; Rob's comments still festered in the back of Carla's mind.

_Maybe it's time you let go of your conscience, Carla._

His words still stung. Carla had truly hoped that they could make it through the Games without losing themselves along the way. But it seemed to her that Rob was already on his way. The thought terrified her.

She couldn't blame him. After all, surviving the Games was much easier for those people who were able to kill without remorse. She'd seen it year on year when watching the Games herself. The ones that killed ruthlessly, acted on impulse without regret, were the ones who made it the furthest. Perhaps she was naïve to think they could make it without changing. Perhaps she was naïve to think that Rob would want to.

She pulled her knees into her chest as she sat beside the campfire, waiting for her teammates to return from their hunt for food. During their time together, Carla and Rob had grown quite close to Michelle. The trust between them had gradually built up, and they were beginning to feel as though they could let their guards down around each other. For the first time since they'd met in training, Carla felt as though she was finally beginning to see the real Michelle: the girl beneath the façade.

She'd discovered that Michelle was a year younger than her: the same age as Rob. She didn't speak much about her family, and Carla assumed it was because it was too painful. Despite not having the loving family she'd so desperately longed for growing up, Carla still missed home. She supposed it must have been even worse for the tributes who had left behind a family that really cared.

Whilst at first Michelle had appeared hardened and strong, Carla had begun to realise that it was all just a front. Michelle knew how to play the Games. She payed attention to all the other tributes, and she knew what viewers wanted to see. Being timid and frightened got you nothing in the arena, so she'd built up her walls and become someone else. However, around the campfire in the evening, or in the cave at night, Michelle had begun to let her true self shine through.

They'd talk a lot around the campfire about the other tributes; what they supposed they were up to; how many were left. The majority of deaths always took place over the first few days. The cannons to signal them always sent a shiver down Carla's spine. _One of those will be for me one day,_ she would often think.

Since the original bloodbath of the first day, there had been four more deaths. Alya, the small District 4 girl, Shona from District 8 and Seb from District 10 were all lost on the second day. It was difficult for Carla to comprehend. Not knowing how they died, or who killed them, was terrifying to her. If she knew, at least she'd be able to come up with some sort of plan to help the group avoid those situations. Of course, what made her feel even more uneasy was the fact that everyone watching from the Capitol and the Districts would know exactly what happened. There was nothing about life in the arena that went unseen. For all she knew, there could be someone approaching Carla right this second and the audience would be on the edge of their seats. Carla shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. They'd been safe until now. Nothing was going to happen.

Day three had seen another tribute lose their life. Toyah, the other District 10 tribute. Michelle had put her down as one of the weakest tributes, and was shocked to see she'd made it so far.

There were ten tributes left. The Careers were still out in full force, and probably responsible for several of the deaths that had occurred thus far. Whenever conversation turned to them, the atmosphere in the camp changed. Whilst they made Carla and Rob feel uneasy, it had become clear to Carla that Michelle was absolutely petrified of them. Whenever they were mentioned, she would develop a look in her eyes that wasn't dissimilar to that of a lost puppy. Her blatant fear made Carla feel even more uncomfortable. She'd never really let it sink in just how dangerous the Careers could be if they ever came across each other. She just hoped they'd never have to find out.

Alongside them and the Careers, there were three other tributes left. David from District 6, Sarah from District 7 and, of course, Peter.

Carla's mind often wandered to him. She felt terrible for what had transpired between them all. The one cannon she had heard since had sent shockwaves through her and left her with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. That night, as she watched Toyah's face projected against the sky, she let out a sigh of relief.

She couldn't work out why it had affected her so much. After all, he had killed someone, despite all of his professions about not wanting the Games to change him. But he'd done it to save her. He was in an impossible position and he did what he had to do. Perhaps they had been too abrupt in sending him away. Perhaps she should have tried harder to change Michelle and Rob's minds, instead of remaining silent and dwelling on the hurt he'd caused her in that shocking moment.

At least he was still alive. Somewhere out in the arena, he was surviving. He had the skills; Carla had discovered that first hand. But he'd left them with nothing, not even the knife Michelle had handed over earlier in the day. It was a wonder he was still alive. Perhaps the sponsors had taken pity on him and sent him gifts to help.

Did that make Carla, Rob and Michelle the villains? Had the public taken Peter's side after the argument? Had they completely ruined their own chances of getting any sponsors? Only time would tell.

Carla sighed, allowing her eyes to drift closed as the sound of birdsong filled her ears. She laid back, resting her head against the cold, hard ground beneath her. Sleep had been sporadic since they'd arrived in the arena: often they were too on edge to allow themselves to drift off.

As Carla lay alone, listening to the birds and the rustling of the wind through the trees, her mind wandered to District 12 and the meadow she spent so much time in growing up. It was like a sanctuary for her: her place of safety. She longed to be there now; laying among the flowers, hair tangled in the grass, the earth soft against her back. If she focused really hard, she could just about make out the sounds of her neighbours going about their daily business: the hustle and bustle of the market; the footfall of the miners on their way to work.

She allowed her eyes to drift open; the blue sky above her gradually coming into view. The footfall she had heard in her imagination hadn't disappeared. She sat up, confused, listening intently. She held in a breath, not wanting the sound of the air to distract from what she was sure were footsteps approaching her.

"Carla!" She heard a shriek and instinctively turned her attention to the woods. She immediately jumped to her feet as she noticed Michelle and Rob sprinting at full speed up the hill towards her.

"What's happened?" Carla demanded to know as the pair approached.

"They've found us!" Michelle shrieked, breathlessly.

"We need to go! Now!" Rob demanded. Carla remained rooted to the spot, bewildered. "Come on!" He shouted.

Carla felt his hand grip onto hers, a shock of pain rushing through her shoulder as he pulled her after him.

They sprinted as fast as they could along the top of the mountain, before following the path of the stream back down towards the centre of the arena. Carla could feel the burn in her legs and her lungs felt as though they would explode.

Question after question entered her mind. How had they been found? Had they been being watched the whole time? Who even was it that had found them?

Michelle glanced backwards over her shoulder to ensure that Rob and Carla were still following and nobody else was directly behind them. The terrified look in her eyes told Carla the answer to her final question.

They kept running as fast as they could, struggling to stay upright as they manoeuvred down the steep trail of the mountain. Carla could feel her heart pounding at a million miles an hour in her chest. Her head hurt; the adrenaline making her feel dizzy. They had to keep going.

The land around them was beginning to flatten out: they were reaching the bottom of the mountain. Carla and Rob had never seen this part of the arena before. The woodland was sparse, the ground rocky beneath their feet. Everything looked so dry.

Carla's tongue prickled and the inside of her mouth felt tacky. She desperately wanted water. With the stream far behind them, she could only hope they had enough left in the bottle Michelle had taken in her rucksack.

She paused momentarily, a sudden feeling of nausea overtaking her. She pressed one hand against the tree beside her, attempting to steady herself as she gulped in air.

"Carla, come on!" Rob cried, slowing down to allow her to catch up.

Carla nodded, gearing herself up to begin running again, when the sound of footsteps thundering down the mountain behind her spurred her into action. Their pursuers were getting closer.

Carla caught up with Rob in seconds. Michelle was still running several metres ahead, creating a path for them to follow. A few moments later, she stopped.

"What's the matter?" Rob called out to her. A cluster of trees prevented the siblings from seeing what had caused her to freeze. She spun round quickly, a look of defeat across her face. Carla and Rob began to slow as they reached her.

As they stood between the trees, they took in the clearing in front of them, surrounded on three sides by a towering cliff edge.

There was nowhere else to run. They were trapped.

Carla pushed her way past her teammates and into the clearing, determined to find some way out. She approached the cliff face, swiftly analysing the rock for any ledges they could use to climb up and out of danger. There was nothing. She turned around again to face the two of them.

"What do we do?" She asked, her tone urgent. Michelle shook her head, eyes wide. The sound of footsteps behind them made her jump and she, along with Rob, rushed to Carla's side.

They watched as, slowly but menacingly, a figure appeared through the trees.

"Found them!" A voice yelled. It was followed by a chorus of laughter.

One by one, each of the Career tributes stepped into the clearing. Carla felt Michelle stiffen beside her.

Unsurprisingly, they were all armed. They formed a line in front of the trio, blocking their path to escape. Leanne stood at the centre of the pack, twirling a knife between her fingers, a smug grin plastered across her face and a sadistic look in her eyes.

"You dropped this…" She smirked, catching Michelle's eyes. Despite her face managing to outwardly hide her fear, Carla could feel her beginning to tremble beside her.

Carla's eyes flickered between the group in front of her. Tracy stood on the far-left side of the line; a baseball bat held tightly in her fist. Carla examined the weapon, analysing the damage it could do. The end of the bat looked as though it had had nails hammered into it: the sharp shards of metal glinting as they caught the sun. Carla's breath caught in her throat. Tracy's face gave nothing away as she stared blankly at the trio.

Nick stood beside her, taller than the rest, a smile tugging at his lips. The axe in his hands had a red tinge along the blade. Carla shuddered, not wanting to think about how it had been used.

Gary stood on the other side of Leanne, a sheath of arrows slung over his shoulder and a bow in the hand he allowed to rest by his side. In his right hand, he gripped a machete, the blade long and visibly sharp. He offered it to Leanne.

"Want this back?" He asked, gruffly. Leanne shook her head, eyes firmly trained on Michelle.

"Nah, you're alright. I think I'll have just enough fun with this…" She took several slow steps forwards, passing the knife from one hand to the other and back again.

Carla felt Michelle backing up, until her back was pressed against the cliff face behind them. Carla, on the other hand, refused to give in. She wouldn't give the Careers the satisfaction of knowing she was frightened.

"We've been looking for you…" Leanne stated, turning her attention to Carla. "You see, your little attitude during training really rubbed us up the wrong way. Didn't it?"

The other Careers nodded, letting out a chuckle.

"I think we need to teach her a lesson!" Tracy called out, her eyes narrowing eagerly as she made the suggestion. Leanne allowed her head to tilt to the side, looking Carla up and down. Carla remained stone faced.

"You touch her, and I swear to god-" Rob began, taking a step towards Leanne.

"Shut your mouth." Nick silenced him, holding up his axe, threateningly.

Carla took a step forward. There was no way she was going to appear weak in front of them.

"What took you so long, then?" She goaded, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you were that keen on finding me, why had you not done it until now?" She raised her eyebrows, trying her best to appear unbothered, despite her heart pounding at triple speed.

Leanne smirked, lowering her voice. "Well, you see: there's the fun part…" She took a step back, once again addressing the group, as if putting on some kind of twisted performance. "We'd actually still be out there looking for you…" She turned back to Carla, her eyes sparkling and a wicked grin plastered across her face. "If it wasn't for our new friend…" She practically whispered, delighting in the confused expression that Carla was wearing.

She turned her back to the trio, before calling out.

"You can come out now!" She sang, the glee evident in her voice. She turned back to Carla, watching with evident elation as her face fell.

Stepping sheepishly out from behind the trees was the Careers' newest confident. Carla felt as though she'd been hit by a truck. She didn't try to hide the devastation she felt. There wasn't any point. He'd betrayed them. Rob had been right all along. He couldn't be trusted.

Her eyes followed him as he joined the line beside Gary.

"Now, if this were the Capitol, I think we'd all be raising a glass right about now…" Leanne smiled, sadistically. She reached her arm into the air, an imaginary glass in her hand.

"To Peter." She cheered. "Our newest recruit!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Trigger Warning - Mentions of suicide**

Johnny focused intently on the monitor before him; brow furrowed in concentration. He fiddled around with one of the controls in front of him to ensure that it remained focused on the action happening below. This would be too good to miss.

It was dramatic confrontations like this that the viewers most wanted to see and, as Head Gamemaker, it was Johnny's responsibility to provide every moment in crystal clear focus.

Johnny adjusted the position of one of the cameras remotely, zooming in on the shellshocked expression on the District 12 tribute's face. This shot of her eyes awash with unshed tears could make history if it was captured at just the right angle. Johnny's tongue pressed into the side of his cheek as he tried to concentrate.

The constant murmuring of his fellow Gamemakers getting louder made focusing on the task difficult and so, with a frustrated sigh, he turned his attention away from the camera controls and instead turned towards his colleagues.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, exasperated. His colleagues were well aware that Johnny despised any kind of distraction. He continued to stare at his fellow Gamemakers, who were now all huddled around one screen. There was work that needed doing, so Johnny hoped that what they were looking at was something important, else he'd have to look into replacing the lot of them.

Casually, one of the men looked up, a glint in his eye, and raised an eyebrow.

"This just gets better and better…" He replied, cryptically. Johnny sighed. He turned his attention back to the monitor, where the shot he was sure would be broadcast on every screen throughout the Capitol and the Districts remained in strong focus. Satisfied that it was at the best angle, Johnny abandoned his post and marched proudly towards the huddle of men.

The group dispersed as he approached; their eyes shining in excitement. He approached the man still sat at the desk; the one responsible for all press relating to the Hunger Games. Johnny slapped a strong hand down onto his shoulder and peered at the screen.

"What have we got, then?" Johnny queried, confused by the muddle of words on the screen.

"Well, erm," The man twitched. He was of a nervous disposition in any normal circumstances and the pressure of this situation was clearly making him anxious. "There's been some reports from Peacekeepers in District 12…"

"And?" Johnny pressed, impatiently. The man cleared his throat.

"Well, it appears that they've found a body. Suicide, they think."

"And what's that got to do with my Games?" Johnny huffed.

"They've identified the body as that of Sharon Donavon…" He paused, waiting for the name to register in Johnny's mind. When he showed no recognition, he continued. "She's the mother of the District 12 tributes…"

"Do we have a press release ready?" Johnny asked, his mind instantly considering the extra viewing figures and sponsorships that this tragic news would attract.

"That's what I'm currently working on."

The screen changed to an almost complete news article; the centre piece of which was the photo of a woman. Johnny leant forwards, aching for a closer look. As he stared, the image became more recognisable. He searched her face for familiar features, falling finally on her eyes.

"What did you say her name was?"

"Sharon Donavon."

Those eyes.

How could he forget those eyes?

* * *

_"Come on, Johnny-boy! We're off duty. What harm is one drink gonna do?" The nudge of an elbow in Johnny's side made him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His eyes darted towards the bar: more of a tumbledown shack compared to the buildings in the Capitol; before falling once more on the hopeful face of his colleague. He sighed again, shaking his head in defeat._

_"Okay then. One drink." Johnny gave in. "But if we get caught, on your head be it."_

_The pair entered the bustling joint, Johnny with his head down through fear of being spotted. Peacekeepers weren't supposed to interact with locals. They were there to do exactly what their names suggested: keep the peace. Even so, Johnny's colleagues had been trying to get him to have a bit of fun since the moment they'd arrived in District 12. Johnny, on the other hand, was a stickler for the rules._

_The room was lively; crowded and full of life. It was dimly lit, which made facial features difficult to distinguish. Not a second glance was thrown towards the unlikely pair as they brushed shoulders with the locals on their way to the bar: a long, wooden surface propped up with old barrels at the far end of the building; stained with beer and liquor of varying age. Despite the room being packed full of people, Johnny felt a sense of anonymity and began to relax slightly as he approached the bar._

_"See, I told you it would be fine, didn't I?" His colleague nudged him, as he propped himself up against the bar. Johnny watched as he picked up a beermat and tapped it repeatedly against the wood, in the hopes of catching the attention of one of the bar staff._

_Johnny rolled his eyes, leaning against the bar with both elbows, head supported in his hands. He allowed his mind to wander as he waited to be served; thinking back to those times at home in the Capitol as a younger man, when he'd go out with the lads; all leery and wild; any thoughts of being sensible quickly disregarded. He was like a different person now: his dedication to the Capitol and his ambition driving him to turn his life around; to really make something of himself._

_He knew he had the potential to do something great one day; to be a part of something big. Becoming a Peacekeeper was the first step on that journey; one that he was sure would carry him far. As long as he stayed on the straight and narrow, his future could be whatever he wanted to make it._

_"What can I get you, love?" A voice broke him from his daydream. He blinked the world back into focus, his eyes resting on the cleavage of the young barmaid. "I'm up here."_

_Johnny felt his cheeks flush and immediately straightened up, letting out a flustered apology. However, the cold tone of her words didn't reach her eyes. They maintained a cheeky twinkle, as the young woman pulled expertly on a pump, draining golden liquid into a glass._

_"What do you want, then? Or are you just gonna stand there gawping?"_

_"Er, a pint, please." Johnny stuttered. He watched as the woman smirked, placing the full glass of ale on the bar beside his colleague, before retrieving another empty one from a shelf below._

_"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"_

* * *

_"Last orders!" A male voice called out; the sound harsh against Johnny's ears, making him cringe. His colleague had gone home quite a long time ago and, despite promising he'd follow in a few minutes, Johnny couldn't pull himself away from the bar._

_There was something about that barmaid; her brash approach and carefree attitude; that intrigued him. So instead of keeping to his promise, he sat at the bar and watched as she pulled pint after pint. He noted the way she swung her head back as she laughed, her hair swishing and flicking across her back as she returned to an upright position; and the way her eyebrow arched as she listened intently to the stories being told on either side of the bar._

_Every so often she would wander over, unaware of the effect she seemed to have on him, and ask if he wanted another drink. Of course, he couldn't say no. He needed an excuse to stay; to get to know her. With each drink she poured, they engaged in animated conversation. Whether it was merely polite on her part, or something more, Johnny couldn't be sure. As he watched her approach one final time, he decided to find out._

_"One for the road?" She asked, a grin set upon her face._

_"Please. And one for yourself?" Johnny tested the waters, offering her a crisp note. She took it, folding it delicately between her nimble fingers, sucking in her cheeks in a way that accentuated the line of her already prominent cheekbones._

_"Alright then. Don't mind if I do." She beamed. "But only if you keep me company."_

* * *

_"Night, Gareth." She called into the pub as she closed the door tightly behind her. Johnny watched as she pulled her cardigan more tightly around her tiny figure; an attempt to block out the bitter chill of the night._

_"Can I walk you home?" He asked, ever the gentleman. She offered a smile, her teeth chattering away behind closed lips._

_"If you want…" She answered nonchalantly, momentarily knocking Johnny's confidence, before he felt her arm snake around his, the crook of her elbow fitting into his own like a key in a lock. "I'm Sharon, by the way." She smiled up at him, as she began to lead him towards her home on the outskirts of the District._

_"Johnny." He replied._

_"I've not seen you around here before." She commented._

_"Oh. Well, I'm here on business." He answered quickly, worried that the truth would scare her off._

_She smirked, wryly. "You're a Peacekeeper." She nodded, knowingly, as Johnny began to clam up. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."_

* * *

_The door of the room slammed shut as Johnny felt Sharon pull him towards her: their lips colliding; hands grappling at clothing. Her lips were soft and sweet against his; enticing him in. Despite every nerve in his body telling him otherwise, Johnny pulled away._

_As the contact of their lips against each other ceased, Sharon's eyes opened, laced with disappointment. Johnny couldn't help but stare into them. The green hue of her iris' reminded him of autumn meadows, getting lost amongst the grass without a care in the world. He felt as though he could get lost in her eyes in much the same way._

_"What?" Sharon's voice pulled him back to reality; his eyeline dropping back to her lips. The hint of disappointment had been clear in her tone, but even so, he had to be sure._

_"Are you sure you want this?" He asked, sincerely. A Peacekeeper and a local having any kind of relationship was something that could land both parties in serious trouble, and Johnny wasn't prepared to risk it for someone who didn't feel the same._

_"More than anything." She breathed. Her breath was hot against his lips, which sent tingles down his spine. He felt her hand reaching for his; fingers lacing and interlocking. "Bedroom's this way…"_

* * *

_Johnny's eyes fluttered open as the morning song of the Lark filtered through the open window. He furrowed his brow: an attempt to rid himself of the pounding between his temples._

_The previous night had become somewhat of a blur, thanks to the countless pints of cheap beer he had consumed. There was one thing he was sure of, though. The woman wrapped in his arms beneath the sheets; her head resting against his bare chest; was proof enough of what had happened._

_He smiled slightly as he watched her, his fingers tangling gently through the wispy ends of her hair. She had a frown set upon her face as she slept, as though the worries of the world weighed her down, even in the depths of her subconscious._

_As the sun rose further above the horizon, light pooling on the bed, as though creating a spotlight over the pair, Johnny's doubts rose further too. He longed to feel content in this position. His heart yearned for the thrill of new love, and yet his guilt robbed him of that._

_He knew it wasn't allowed. Getting involved with District citizens was a direct breach of Capitol policy that could land not only him, but also Sharon, in prison. He knew that if anyone were to ever find out, it would be a lot worse for her than it was for him. Whilst Capitol officials were harsh on the criminals of their own city, it was nothing compared to the wrath faced by those in the Districts, with the Hunger Games being the ultimate example._

_"Hey, you…" Sharon mumbled, tilting her head to look Johnny in the eye. As her face met his, she sat up. "What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing." Johnny lied, pushing off the sheets and pulling on his shirt. He sighed, turning around to face her once more. "Look, this was-"_

_"Don't you dare tell me this was a mistake." She interrupted, stealing the words straight out of his mouth. Johnny sighed, sitting back down on the bed and taking her hand in his. Her skin was soft; a harsh contrast to the calloused feel of his own palms._

_"I don't mean it like that. Last night was incredible. _You_ were incredible. It's just… What if people found out?"_

_"They won't. Not unless one of us says anything."_

_"Sharon..." Johnny sighed, reaching out to tuck a strand of her behind her ear. "I really like you. And if the situation was different then I wouldn't have any doubts about us being together."_

_"No one will ever know, Johnny. You can't just leave!" Sharon protested, as Johnny began pulling on his boots, the laces getting tangled as he struggled to concentrate on tying them properly. He sighed._

_"Sharon, I have to get home. I have to work this morning."_

_"What time do you finish?"_

_"Five." Johnny stated, wearily. He rubbed his brow, sensing where this conversation was headed._

_"Meet me." She said. "If you follow the path towards the woods, you'll find an old forester's hut. It's been empty for decades. No one ever ventures that far out so there's no risk of us being caught. Please, just say you'll meet me there and we can talk about this."_

_"I don't know, Sharon, I-"_

_"Please."_

_Johnny sighed. Meeting her again would just be prolonging the inevitable. He glanced at her once more; at the hopeful glint in her striking green eyes; and decided he couldn't bear to disappoint her. Not face to face, anyway._

_"Okay. I'm not promising anything, but if I can get there, I'll try."_

_Sharon let out a breath, a small smile creeping across her lips. "I'll be waiting."_

* * *

_Johnny trudged out of the Peacekeepers' dwellings and along the path to the usual meeting point, his mind swirling with the decisions he had to make. There was no way he could risk seeing her again. He cared about her too much to let any slip ups put her in danger._

_He told himself sternly that it was simply infatuation: the loneliness he had been feeling since leaving his home playing tricks on him. He'd spent one night with her. There was no reason for him to make the trip out to the forester's hut. He had nothing left to say. The feelings he had now were still raw: merely a result of their passion-filled evening that would wear off in time._

_Comfortable in his new found clarity, he quickened his pace towards the spot where he was due to begin his shift._

_"Good night, was it?" Johnny's colleague for the day piped up as he approached._

_"What?" Johnny questioned, instantly on edge._

_"Well, Scott was telling me how the pair of you went to a pub last night and, by all accounts, had quite a lively evening." The man raised his eyebrows, a laddish grin stretched across his face._

_Johnny scoffed, concealing the silent relief he felt that his night with Sharon hadn't been discovered. "Hardly!" He replied, chuckling. "We had a couple of drinks and were home before ten."_

_"Whatever you say…"_

_"What's on the list for today, then?" Johnny prompted, changing the subject in the hope that immersing himself in his work would take his mind off the other pressing matter he was trying to avoid thinking about._

_"Standard patrols. We're on Main Street and the Square."_

_"Right you are. Best we get cracking then._

* * *

_"Good shift, mate." Johnny said, offering his colleague a firm handshake._

_"We didn't do a bad job, if I do say so myself!" His colleague chuckled._

_As the men bid each other farewell, Johnny began his journey back towards his flat; the one-room accommodation he called home for the extent of his time in District 12. As he walked, the subject he had managed to block from his memory for the length of his shift filtered its way back into his head._

_He couldn't see her. He knew that. Nothing she said could make him change his mind, so why bother prolonging the agony? Why put her through it? They couldn't be together and she would have to accept that. He had._

'But maybe you haven't…' _The thought cropped up in the back of his mind, one that he thought he had under control. '_Maybe you're scared that she'll change your mind.'

_Johnny shook his head, refusing to allow the thought to derail him._

_The further he walked away from the centre of District 12; away from that little pub and her little house and that little path she had asked him to walk, the more of a pull towards those places he felt. He quickened his pace, desperate to get back to his flat; to shut the door on the rest of the world and spend the night in peace._

_Only he didn't get that far._

_He was weak. That was the only explanation. As his feet carried him towards the forester's hut, he was powerless to stop them. He had to see her one last time._

_Knocking lightly on the door, he was on edge. What if it had been a trap? What if he were to open the door to a Capitol official, ready to arrest him for his crime?_

_The door opened and he stepped inside, relieved to find Sharon sat on the edge of the bed that was perched against the far wall._

_"I knew you'd come." She smiled._

_"You're very confident, aren't you?" Johnny observed, receiving a light laugh from her._

_"Look, if you've come to tell me that we shouldn't be seeing each other then-"_

_"I haven't." Johnny's words were as much of a shock to him as they were her. Deep down he knew he couldn't resist her. What was the point in trying? Why spend the rest of his life regretting what could have been?_

_"So, we're really doing this?" Sharon whispered, standing up and walking slowly towards him, biting her lip in a way that Johnny found irresistible._

_"I suppose we are…" He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her slight frame against his own stockier body. He allowed his neck to crane downwards, and brushed his lips lightly against hers. "I hope you're good at keeping secrets…"_

* * *

_The final five weeks of Johnny's placement in District 12 flew by at lightening speed. He had never been happier. His relationship with Sharon had helped the days go by and slowly but surely, he realised he had fallen in love with her._

_He packed up his final few belongings in preparation to leave the District with a heavy heart. It pained him to know that he'd never see her again._

_He felt awful for not telling her that he was leaving, but he couldn't bear to see the crestfallen look on her face when she realised. Their final night together had been so perfect and Johnny didn't want to ruin that by breaking the news. He wanted her final memory of him to be a happy one, as his was of her._

_A knock on the door of his room drew his attention. He glanced at the clock on his wall; he still had ten minutes before he had to leave._

_"Come in." He called, confused as to why anyone would be knocking for him with so much time before they set off._

_As he turned towards the door he gasped. Her face was painted with hurt and anger. This wasn't the way he wanted to say goodbye._

_"What are you doing here?" He hissed, pulling her into the room and slamming the door behind her. "You can't be here! What if someone saw you?"_

_"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" She ignored his question, her tone woeful and demanding._

_Johnny sighed. "I didn't want to hurt you." He admitted softly. "Our time together… It's been so special. I didn't want to ruin that."_

_"Don't go." She said abruptly, taking Johnny by surprise._

_"What?"_

_"I said don't go. Stay here with me." She said, her tone practically pleading with him._

_"I can't, Sharon. People would know. I need to go back. I've got a career waiting for me. I-"_

_"I get it. You've got your shiny future waiting for you back at the Capitol. As far as your concerned, I can just rot here." Sharon said, her voice cracking with emotion._

_"You know I don't mean that…" Johnny pointed out, frustrated._

_"What about our future, Johnny? You and me?" Sharon continued, reaching for his hand. He pulled it away, rubbing his forehead as he thought of a solution to this mess._

_"We never had a future, Sharon…" He stated, quietly._

_"What?" She questioned, her lower lip trembling like a small child._

_"There was never a future for us. I thought you knew that. Look, Sharon, over these past few weeks, I've fallen in love with you. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop myself. But now, we have to try and move on. Accept that this is it for us."_

_"But it's not-"_

_"Sharon, please."_

_"No, Johnny. You don't understand. We do have a future, whether we want one or not."_

_"What?" Johnny asked, exasperated. As far as he was concerned, she was talking in riddles._

_"I'm pregnant, Johnny." She blurted abruptly. Johnny looked up, shellshocked._

_"You can't be…" He stammered, a nauseous feeling washing over him._

_"I am. And I am absolutely terrified. But, if you just stay, we can make this work. We can raise our baby together-"_

_"You need to leave." Johnny said, his voice emotionless. He refused to believe this was happening._

_"Johnny, please! I can't do this on my own!" Sharon cried, as Johnny ushered her towards the door._

_"I'm so sorry…" Johnny whispered, as he closed the door on her, blocking her out of his life forever._

* * *

_As Johnny sat on the train set to depart any minute towards the Capitol, he took one final look across the District that had served as his home for the past six months. He would take away fond memories of the place, as well as some invaluable experience._

_He didn't want to think about what he was leaving behind._

_However, as he gazed out across the District, he spotted her. Sat alone on a bench in the distance, clutching a cheap bottle of vodka between her hands, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks._

_Johnny watched in horror as she unscrewed the lid of the bottle and pressed it up against her lips._

_Before he knew what he was doing, he was out of his seat, rushing down the aisle towards the train door. Just as he reached it, he felt the pull of the wheels setting off along the tracks. He was too late._

* * *

Johnny stared at the photo on the screen, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn't seen her face, or even so much as given her a second thought in 16 years, and yet, it stirred emotions inside him that he'd forgotten he could have.

18 years.

18 long and lonely years.

18 years of mourning for what could have been; the future he had watched her destroy.

Or had he?

His feet carried him away from the screen, back towards the desk he had been working at before. He sunk into the chair; eyes fixed carefully on the monitor; the camera still focused on that history-making shot; of that 18-year-old's piercing green eyes awash with tears.

How could he forget those eyes?


End file.
